The Miss Cowbell Pageant
by Otempora42
Summary: The Miss Cowbell Pageant, the biggest event in town, is about to start. Being South Park, it will involve crossdressing, whorish little sisters, gender politics, sabotage, and a grand prize of 10,000 dollars. And, of course, Jesus.
1. Mister Cowbell

**Hi, guys! This is my first fan fic (under this name, at least). I really don't have any idea where this is going, but I guess I'll just roll with it. For now, it's going to be a Wendy/Cartman slash fic, but it could easily change at any minute.**

**Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 1: Mister Cowbell

In any small town, there are three major events of the year. There's the high school Homecoming game. There's the county fair. And then there's the pageant. The last one was coming up in South Park.

This year, as usual, Mayor McDaniels, Officer Barbrady, and Big Gay Al would be the judges of the Miss Cowbell Pageant. They had booked Jesus to host. They decided not to repeat Jimbo's performance last year, where he had accidentally shot Bluebell the Second, the official Miss Cowbell Pageant Cow. Bluebell the Third would make her debut this year.

As soon as the flyers went out, every girl in town between the ages of 14 and 18 got caught up in the pre-pageant preparations. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Wendy Testaburger, feminist, vegetarian, and rumored lesbian, had not expressed any interest at all in signing up. The balance was tipped, however, because one boy had his eye on becoming Miss Cowbell, and on the prize.

* * *

"What?" Mayor McDaniels asked her aides, as she looked over the flyers. "Where the hell did we get $10,000 for a stupid beauty contest?"

"I honestly can't say, Mayor," Johnson said, as he kicked a bag of cement behind a potted plant.

"Whatever. This is the biggest thing that happens in this hick town, anyway. We might as well splurge." She sighed. "Do I really have to judge it again?"

"I'm afraid so," said Fred. Due to Ted's untimely demise during that unfortunate incident with the zombies back in '07, Fred had been her aide for the past eight years. The mayor groaned.

"By the way, you had a letter concerning the pageant." Johnson handed the mayor an envelope. She rolled her eyes, grabbed the letter, and opened it. Her eyes scanned over the letter, gradually growing wider as they read to the end. When Mayor McDaniels reached the end, however, it all made sense.

"Oh, goddammit."

* * *

Eric Cartman was in the middle of his daily naptime, known to the rest of the world as Pre-Cal, when he vaguely felt Kenny hitting his arm.

"Huh?"

"You're being called to the principal's office, fatass," his nominal best friend told him. Cartman smiled. He got up and waddled out the door.

When the seventeen-year-old finally reached the principal's office, he saw the blue-haired mayor. His grin only got wider.

"Why, hello," said Cartman.

"What bullshit is this, Eric?" Mayor McDaniels asked, holding up the letter.

"Oh, _that_..."

"What exactly _is_ the letter about?" asked Principal Victoria, sitting at her desk.

"Mister Cartman here has decided that he wants to become the next Miss Cowbell," the mayor replied, matter-of-factly.

"Actually, as you can see in the letter, I want to become the first Mister Cowbell." Mr. Mackey and Principal Victoria exchanged worried glances.

"Now, Eric," Mr. Mackey said, "we understand that you're feeling some strange things right now, m'kay? You're young, and it's perfectly natural. Considering your upbringing... If there's anything you need to tell us, then feel free, m'kay?"

"Whatever can you mean, Mr. Mackey?"

"Well, sometimes young boys want to join more predominantly female activities in order to meet girls. But, I assure you, there are less public spectacles, m'kay?"

"I find the Miss Cowbell Pageant to be discriminatory against men. Aren't you in favor of equal-opportunity?"

"Of course we are," Principal Victoria said. She had been sued too many times to risk another case. "Aren't we?"

"Oh, oh, of course." Mayor McDaniels said, faking a smile. "Well, I'm sure you know that sign-ups are on Saturday. Then you can compete in the preliminaries."

"Why, thank you, Mayor. May I go back to class?"

"Of course, Eric." He nodded and left the room.

"Sweet."

"D'ya think he's gay?" Principal Victoria asked Mister Mackey.

"I'll have a talk with him, Principal Victoria."

"Jesus Christ."

"M'kay."

* * *

"Hey, what were you called out of Pre-Cal today?" Kenny asked the smug-looking Cartman.

"I was talking to Mayor McDaniels."

"What about?" Stan asked. Cartman tipped his chair back.

"You're looking at the future Mister Cowbell." There was a brief stunned silence, and then the four boys burst out laughing. "What! It's not funny!"

"No, it's not," Kyle said. "I was just wondering what color dress would go best with your skin tone." They started to laugh again.

"Screw you guys, I'm going home. We'll see who's laughing when I win $10,000." Cartman got up and stormed off. Suddenly, the boys stopped laughing.

"Wait, $10,000?"


	2. Sign Ups

**Random tidbit: this was originally going to be the first chapter, but I decided that I needed more cowbell (you knew that joke was coming, admit it). Besides, I wanted to give the pageant and the Cartman thing a bit more background. Also, I'll feature Wendy's aunts (so far there are two) in a later chapter. Oh, and the last paragraph was completely on-the-fly, so now I have an unexpected new subplot. I love writing without an outline.**

**Oh, damn. I just realized a MAJOR goof. The Testaburgers are written as Wendy's mom's clan, but really, she'd have gotten the name from her dad. I'll have to think of some way around it, or change it completely. I'll leave it up for now, and if I edit it, I'll let you know.**

**If you enjoyed it, or have constructive criticism, please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 2: Sign Ups

It was traditional for most of the girls whose faces didn't actually stop clocks to participate in the annual Miss Cowbell Pageant. Therefore, Wendy Testaburger found herself dragged along with all of her friends to the sign-ups.

"Oh, come on, Wendy!" Bebe had said, when she'd announced that she had no intention of competing. "_Everyone_ does it."

"I'm not going to. I find it extremely offensive that the town thinks it's entertaining – admirable, even – to show us off like cattle. In high heels," she added, lamely.

"But it's fun!" Red insisted. "Besides, it's traditional." Wendy shook her head.

"I'm not going to sign up. It's a violation of my principles." She smiled. "If it's that important to you guys, I'll support you. All of you. I just don't think I can, in good conscience, be considered as a Cowbell."

So, as always, Wendy had to go with the girls to sign up. What did they think, that she'd change her mind at the last moment? God knows her mother hadn't convinced her.

"But, Wendy!" Mrs. Testaburger had protested, when her daughter had told her that she wasn't participating. "The Miss Cowbell Pageant is a Testaburger tradition!" Wendy's grandmother had been the first ever Miss Cowbell, and her mother and aunts had also won the crown.

"I don't care, Mom."

"Honey, are you a lesbian?" Wendy sighed.

"Yes. The only possible reason I wouldn't want to be dressed up in uncomfortable clothes and shown off like a doll is because I like girls. Way to support the stereotype, Mother."

"Really?"

"No! Mom, I'm straight."

"Are you sure? You broke up with that nice Stan Marsh. And Token Black. And Kyle Broflovski."

"I'm not going to participate in the pageant. And the fact that I don't have a boyfriend has nothing to do with it." Before her mother could say a word, Wendy went upstairs and put on her music as loud as possible.

Wendy smiled, as she recalled it. Her mother had always hated Jack Off Jill.

"What do you think, Wendy?" Heidi's question pulled Wendy out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"We were wondering if Heidi should wear a green evening gown," Bebe explained. She, of course, had already decided to go with red. Bebe wasn't a slut, as rumor had it, but she loved to be the center of attention. Boys' attention, mainly.

"I dunno," Wendy replied. "What kind of dress are you going to get?"

"I don't know," Heidi admitted. Then Lola suggested that she wear something with a low back, and the girls went off into a rapid-fire discussion that Wendy could barely follow. Why had she come? She didn't want to join up, and whoever was in charge would think she was strange for not wanting to join up, like everyone else in the town.

Then Wendy Testaburger witnessed a very strange and disturbing sight.

"What's up, ho?" Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Cartman." The annoying fat boy had decided to stand behind her in line. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm here for the same reason everyone else is. To sign up."

"Oh, you're so funny," she replied, sarcastically.

"Who said I was joking?" Wendy blinked, and then burst out laughing. "Shut up, you skinny bitch!"

"In case you didn't notice, this is the _Miss_ Cowbell Pageant. Unless there's something you'd care to tell me?"

"That's exactly right. The Miss Cowbell Pageant. Don't you find that extremely sexist?"

"Of course I do. That's why I'm not signing up."

"I don't mean that. I mean sexist against males. I thought hippies hated sexism."

"First of all, I am not a follower of sixties fashion trends, a prostitute, a gardening implement, or a female dog. So kindly stop referring to me as such. Second of all, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I want to compete in the Miss Cowbell Pageant. Or, as it should properly be called, the Gender-Neutral Cowbell Pageant. Oh, I'd better remember that. Anyway, why should I not be allowed to compete just because I have a dick when you're allowed to not be able to cook and clean when you have a vagina?"

"You fucking asshole!"

"Please, Wendy. I am not an anus, so stop referring to me as such. But don't you agree?"

"Why should I agree with your fifties female stereotypes?"

"I _meant_ that the Miss Cowbell Pageant is sexist by not allowing boys to compete." Wendy opened her mouth to counter his argument, and then was horrified. He was _right. _As much as she hated the pageant, and how much more she hated Cartman, he had a valid point. "I thought as much. But I will be the first male contestant in the Miss or Mister Cowbell Pageant. I talked to Mayor McDaniels about it, so it's all kewl." Although his voice had gotten a little deeper over the years, the annoying accent had remained. This, coupled with his smarmy grin and outdated view of women, made Wendy want to slap him. "So you can just go and get married and pop out a few babies while _I _win the title of Mister Cowbell."

"I'll be damned if I let you win, Cartman." She turned to her girlfriends. "Hey, ladies? I've decided that I'm going to compete, after all." They squealed with joy, and surrounded Wendy, giving her style tips. But Cartman could still see Wendy flip her long hair and give him a sly smile.

_Goddamn, do I hate that bitch,_ he thought. _It'll be fun beating her scrawny ass._

Behind him, a girl with short blonde hair got in line. Not that Cartman cared. Yet.


	3. Coming Out

**Yeah. The first section nearly made my spell check commit suicide. **

**Thanks to FLD for the reviews. I hate to be one of those writers who begs for reviews, but – eh, screw it. REVIEW.**

**Oh, and I think I figured out the Testaburger thingy. Yay. And if I go OOC with Cartman at any point, you'll let me know, right? Right?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 3: Coming Out

"Maaaaaahm?"

"Yes, my little piggy?" Normally Cartman would tell his mom not to call him a piggy, but he let it go this one time.

"Um, what would you say if I told you I had joined the Miss Cowbell Pageant?" The sentence came out quickly, but not quick enough.

"Don't be silly, Eric. The Miss Cowbell Pageant is for girls." Cartman sighed.

"But maaaaahm... you won the Miss Cowbell Pageant when you were my age, right?"

"Of course, sweetums."

"I'm just carrying on the Cartman tradition. For you." His trademark whine had gotten a little harder over the years as his voice had deepened, but it still did the trick.

"Well, all right." She paused. "Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure that this isn't for... other reasons?"

"Whatever could you mean, mom?"

"Well, I know that you grew up without a father figure in your life. And you might be feeling a bit confused right now. You're young, and your hormones..."

"Maaahm!"

"I'm just saying. If there's anything you need to tell me, feel free. I'll love you, no matter if you prefer wee-wees to cha-chas."

"Mom, I'm not a fag!"

"Of course not. But if you were..." Cartman stormed up to his room. Mrs. Cartman watched him go and shrugged.

* * *

When Wendy Testaburger returned home from the mall, her mother was sitting on the couch, watching some soap opera where the middle-class women's lives revolved around the hot lower-class studs. It made Wendy sick.

Wendy tried to sneak past her mother without being noticed, but then she heard her mother call her name.

"So, did you sign up?" Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Yes." She winced as her mother squealed in delight. Honestly, she was worse than Bebe had been. "Now I have to go and work on my English essay. Feel free to call all of your friends and tell them the good news. I'm going shopping with the girls next week, and I'll let you know if I find a dress. You will _not_ buy me anything. Especially if it's frilly or pink." Wendy went up to her room.

_Ugh, why did I tell my mother? _she wondered, as she head her mother say, "Yes, Trudy, it's Mindy. My little girl's going to be the new Miss Cowbell!" _I'm going to be mobbed by my aunts._ She should've told her that she'd joined another club. Wendy was the Student Council Vice-President, the captain of the Debate and Academic teams, National Honor Student, and senior editor of the school newspaper. It was plausible. _Jesus, as if I need another activity. Although I suppose, if I win, it shows leadership skills..._

_Who am I kidding. All it will mean is that I look good in a bikini._ Wendy's self-loathing had been dulled by the fact that it was all to spite Cartman, but it hadn't disappeared completely. She was still violating all of her feminist principles.

_Jesus Christ. What if Cartman actually _wins_? I'll never be able to face him. _Wendy was genuinely worried, and then she imagined Cartman in a dress. She laughed, and the bad feeling immediately left her. Wendy pulled out her laptop, put on Sufjan, and worked on her Othello essay.

It was nearly impossible for her to feel bad when she was listening to Sufjan.

* * *

"Heya, mom," said Butters, coming through the door. He had an athletic bag slumped over one shoulder.

"Oh, hello, Butters. How did soccer practice go?"

"Pretty good. I'll be training almost every day now."

"Oh. Well, tell us when you have a game, and your father and I will come to support you." Butters thanked her and went upstairs.

He put his bag carefully on his bed. He pulled out a Styrofoam head mannequin from the back of his closet. Luckily, his parents hadn't ventured anywhere near his closet ever since the Pudding Incident in eighth grade. Butters set it on his desk. He then took out a wig from his bag and put it on the head. It was blond, fairly short, and slightly frizzy. Butter carefully combed it down, and then put it beside his two other blonde wigs in his closet. He smiled at them, ruefully. _Gosh. If my parents knew about this, I'd be grounded for sure._

Butters hated soccer.


	4. Sabotage

**OK, I'm slightly more satisfied with the review situation. Mainly because I actually have more reviews than chapters. Anyway, could some of you lurkers review? Please?** **And thanks to those who reviewed (all both of you).**

**So, I was going to put Kyle and Stan into the previous chapter, except for four things: first, it wouldn't fit into the theme of kids coming home and going to their rooms; second, I hadn't quite figured out the plot at that point; third, it turned out to be way too long; and fourth, hates me and wouldn't let me replace the chapter once I had written it. However, it did give me a good boot in the ass with starting out this chapter.**

**And now I have yet another subplot. Great. This is going to be the most convoluted thing ever.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own South Park.**

Ch. 4: Sabotage

"Who do you think we could bribe to sabotage Cartman?" Stan Marsh scratched his head.

"Kyle? It's three in the morning."

"Yeah, and I've been thinking. We can't let fatass win this stupid pageant thing."

"It's _three_. In the _morning_. On a _Sunday._ Unlike you, I have to go to Mass tomorrow. And you know how much shit I get into if I fall asleep during church."

"Yeah. So, anyway, I was thinking. If we don't want Cartman to win..."

"You know, Kyle, you could just let this go."

"You know very well that I _can't_. If Cartman wins, he's just going to use his stupid $10,000 to lord it over us. I am not going to let him do that." A thought occurred to Stan.

"How many Red Bulls have you had today?"

"Do you mean today, or yesterday?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I had one at ten, one at midnight, and then about five more today." Stan sat up.

"You're _diabetic_. You're going to send yourself into a fucking coma."

"I'm done, I swear. Anyway, I was thinking. We need to sabotage his performances. And we need someone to do it. So, who are we going to bribe?"

"I fail to see where I agreed to join you."

"Oh, come on, Stan. We're super best friends, aren't we?"

"I guess."

"Super best friends support their super best friends' schemes to ruin the gay fatass."

"You lost me there."

"Who can we bribe, Stan?"

"I dunno. Wendy always hated his guts."

"No. I'm not dealing with her again." As Wendy was both Stan's and Kyle's ex-girlfriend, their relations with her were rather strained. "Gimme someone else."

"Fuck, I dunno... almost everyone hates him."

"Hey, isn't Kenny's little sister competing?"

"What? She's, like, twelve."

"She's fifteen. She's in her sophomore year now."

"So, you're going to bribe her to sabotage Cartman."

"I guess so."

"Do you think this is a good idea? I mean, you know what Cartman's like. He threatened to take out the whole town when you ran against him for student council president."

"And I won, and he didn't."

"But, still. He's not the sort of guy you screw with. Besides, you could get into a lot of trouble if someone found out you were sabotaging him."

"He can't win, Stan. He just _can't_."

"OK. I need to go to sleep. Try and get some sleep, too, OK? Don't do anything until the morning."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye." Then Kyle hung up. Stan stared at his phone. _Kyle and I are friends, and all, but goddamn. He can be really creepy sometimes._ Then he went back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Kyle woke up to a huge headache and his mother screaming at him. The latter wasn't exactly helping the former. 

"Kyle, it's four in the afternoon! What were you doing last night?"

"I wanted to finish my Othello essay," Kyle lied. In fact, he still needed to work on the concluding paragraph, but there was no reason for Sheila to know about that.

"Well, it's time to get up!" She looked around his room. "Bubbe, do you never clean in here?" Kyle sat up and rolled his eyes. He regretted it.

"Ow." Mrs. Broflovski left the room, tutting. Kyle took a shower, got dressed, and went over to Kenny's house.

* * *

"OK, guys. Let's take this from the top." Kenny's band was rehearsing in his backyard, as the McCormicks didn't have a garage. In the summer preceding senior year, Kenny had sold half of his possessions, including his orange parka and most of his porn collection, for a guitar. Like most teenagers, he had a vague idea of becoming a world-renowned rock star, with lots of money and groupies. More importantly, he could get out of South Park forever. 

"Gah! I messed up that last song!" Tweek played the drums. He was actually pretty good, once you calmed him down.

"You were good, Tweek." Token played the bass, of course. Even after the whole Faith + 1 thing, Token had kept it up. Their band lacked a name and a lead singer. Right now, Kenny was singing, but his voice was only average. And whoever heard of a three-man rock band?

"Guys, let's just try it again. One, two, three..."

* * *

Meanwhile, Kyle went in the front door. Mrs. McCormick was sitting in front of the grainy black-and-white television, smoking a cigarette. 

"Hello, Mrs. McCormick?" She turned around, and he noticed that she was holding a bottle of beer.

"Whaddaya want?"

"I need to speak to Katie."

"Oh, you're another one of her **-hic-** boyfriends?"

"No, not at all. I just need to talk to her." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh, you're Kenny's little friend. She's in her room." Kyle suddenly remembered his friend, Katie's overprotective older brother, and possibly the only reason why she wasn't even more of a whore than she already was.

"Where's Kenny?"

"He's practicing with his band in the backyard." Kyle nodded. If there was one thing he didn't need, it was Kenny knowing what he was doing. Or Kenny thinking he knew what Kyle was doing. Kyle went down the hall and knocked on Katie's door.

"Come in!" Kyle opened the door. Katie's room hadn't appeared to have changed since she was four. The walls were bare except for layers of posters layered over each other. She still slept in a single bed with a tacky pink polyester quilt and quasi-matching pillow. Katie sat up.

"Oh. Hello, Kyle. Whatever could you want?" She then reclined on the bed. _Whore_.

"You're joining the Miss Cowbell Pageant?" Katie nodded. "Well, so is Cartman." Katie stared at him, and then laughed.

"That's Kenny's fat friend, right?" Kyle nodded, and she laughed some more. Then she smiled at Kyle. "But you didn't come all the way here just to tell me that, did you?" She pouted at him. Katie was actually very attractive, with light blue eyes and reddish-blonde hair.

"No. You see, I hate Cartman. I mean, really hate Cartman." Katie sat up and made a space on her bed for Kyle. "No, I'm fine. Anyway, I don't want him to win." Katie nodded. "So I need your help to sabotage his chances."

"Really? What's in it for me?" She stood up. It was clear she meant business.

"I'm willing to pay you for your... services." Perhaps not the best choice of words, considering who he was talking to, but he ignored it.

"How much?"

"I can pay you 250 dollars up front. If I get good results, I can pay you an extra 100." This wasn't all the money he had (he'd been saving his allowance since sixth grade), but he could see that Katie thought it was a lot.

"Wow." Then she regained her composure. "Well, let's see. If I'm going to compete, I'll need a dress. I can probably get a good one off of eBay for 50 bucks. Then I'll need a good haircut, not just one of my mom's trims. That'll be at least 75, more if I decide to go for highlights. Then I might need to spend money to ruin Cartman's chances." Kyle quickly tallied up the total. At least $475, and probably a lot more. "What do you say?" It was just then that Kyle noticed that Katie was only a few inches away from him. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. She raised an eyebrow.

"OK, I'll pay for it." She smiled.

"Good. Can you bring it to me tomorrow? After our first rehearsal. Here. Say, nine?"

"Sure. Well, bye." Just as he turned to leave, she spoke again.

"One more thing. You don't want me to tell Kenny about this, do you? I mean, you know how he gets." He turned back.

"You wouldn't." She shrugged. He closed his eyes. "OK, another $75. Will that do?"

"That should be fine," Katie purred. Kyle walked out into the hall. _Manipulative bitch. _

"Well, that was **-hic-** quick. Even for Katie."

"Goodbye, Mrs. McCormick!" Kyle slammed the door as he left the house. _Jesus. The things I do to spite Cartman._


	5. Cartman's Manly Hips

**Hey, guys. Um... you see, nest week is going to be super busy. I have a huge art project that I need to work on over the next week, and I am doing NaNoWriMo, so I need to make an outline for that. Not to mention that, in November, I will be so out of it. Which means... this is probably the last chapter for some time. But, as soon as December rolls around, I'll be back in business. I plan to write a few oneshots (maybe three) and post them during November. So, yeah. Hiatus.**

**Anyhoo, I corrected that little error I made in the last chapter, thanks to FLD (my biggest fan). Like I said, I'm not using an outline or anything. I'm just going where the story takes me. And, as far as I know, there is no St. Meredith, but it just sounds like a good girls' school, doesn't it? **

**Dude, Butters is really fun to write. Even if I gave away the whole crush-on-Cartman thing away far too early. And I kept wanting to use female pronouns when Butters was speaking. I'm almost certain he doesn't identify as a girl. He's just... Butters. And Big Gay Al's critique of Cartman is at least partially based on my old dance teacher. **

**So, until December!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own South Park.**

Ch. 5: Cartman's Manly Hips

When Wendy arrived at the South Park Community Center, she nearly missed the notice posted on the door. If Bebe hadn't spotted it, she would've missed it altogether.

"Oh, I'm with Heidi," Bebe said, absently.

"For what?" Wendy went back and looked at the small sheet of paper. It was really no wonder she hadn't seen it.

"Dressing room assignments." Cartman was the only one who had his own room. Wendy laughed, bitterly.

"Good thing there's no other boys in the pageant. His ass is too fat to share a room with anyone." She looked for her own name. "Who's Margie Deary?"

"I've never heard of her," Bebe replied. "Does she go to St. Meredith's?" Wendy shrugged.

"Maybe." She looked at her watch. "We'd probably better get dressed."

"OK. See you later."

"Bye!" Wendy walked to her changing room to find a girl already in there. The girl looked up and smiled.

"Oh, hi. I'm Margie."

"Wendy Testaburger." The girl was dressed in sweatpants and a loose tee-shirt. Her light blonde hair was swept up in a ponytail. She didn't have much of a figure that Wendy could tell, but she had a sweet, trusting face. "I go to North Park. Where do you go to school?"

"Um. I'm... homeschooled." Butters had prepared his story weeks ago, but there was a difference between preparing and performing. _Well, thank gosh I took theater this year_, he thought. How else could he convince Wendy, who he'd known all of his life, that he was a complete stranger?

"Really? How long?"

"All my life."

"That's pretty cool, I guess."

"Not really. M-my mom's a pretty big bitch." That's what girls talked about, right? About how bitchy their moms were? He hoped he'd guessed right. Wendy laughed.

"Yeah, I hear you." Then she recognized him. "I'm sorry, this is random, but are you related to Butters?"

"B-butters?"

"Oh, probably not, then. Leopold Scotch?" Butters regained his composure.

"Oh, ol' Leo. Yes, sir, we're... cousins. Third cousins."

"Oh." Wendy put her bag on her changing table. "Butters never mentioned having relatives in town."

"Well, we, ah, just moved." _Don't blow it, mister._ "So, are you and Leo friends?" Wendy shrugged.

"Not really. I mean, it's a small town."

"Yeah. Sure is." Wendy then started to take off her top. Butters closed his eyes.

"You all right?" Butters cracked one eye open. She had changed her shirt.

"Yeah, I'm super. I just need to go to the little girl's room." Butters rushed out of the room. Wendy rolled her eyes. _Homeschoolers._

As Butters practically ran out the door, he bumped into Cartman.

"Watch out, bitch." Butters mumbled an apology as the much larger boy pushed him into the wall. Butters brushed the imaginary dust from the front of his shirt. _Cripes. He shouldn't get to me like that_. But, boy or girl, Butters simply had no resistance to Cartman.

Butters nearly went into the boy's bathroom, but caught himself. He'd never actually been in a girls' bathroom. It didn't seem too much different, except that it was pink and there were no urinals. _I'm gonna hafta pee sitting down, aren't I? _He sighed and went into the stall. _If my parents knew I was here, I'd be grounded._ It gave him a perverse thrill. He'd never done anything quite this rebellious before.

And all that had changed was the tiles.

* * *

Wendy put her long hair up in a ponytail and walked out of the dressing room to find a grinning Cartman. She nearly screamed, but maintained her composure. 

"Christ, Cartman. Are you just waiting out here?" He shrugged.

"Not as if I have anywhere else to go. Who's the blonde bitch?"

"You mean Margie? She's homeschooled." Cartman nodded. "Are you going to move out of my way or not?"

"Don't be so goddamn pushy, ho." But he stepped aside, and she brushed past him. Wendy saw Bebe and waved to her. They walked away together.

"So, is Margie a Catholic schoolgirl?" Wendy shook her head.

"Homeschooled."

"Ah. She's not like Rebecca, is she?"

"God, no." Rebecca was still the biggest slut in the school, although Katie McCormick gave her a run for her money. "She seems nice. A little awkward, but nice." Bebe shrugged.

They went to the stage. It had been built expressly for the pageant back in 1978, so it had a catwalk and enough space to hold the entire town (which was not a lot, frankly). The girls sat on the stage. There were fifty or so, mainly juniors and seniors, with a few sophomores. Then Cartman waddled in after them and sat down, shaking the stage. Wendy shook her head.

"I hate him." Bebe smirked, but before Wendy could wonder why, Jesus and Big Gay Al entered.

"Hello, my children. Welcome to our first rehearsal. We will be meeting together after school for four weeks." Jesus sat in the front row as Big Gay Al fished something out of his bag. "After the four weeks, we will have eliminated you to twenty contestants. Then we will have the public preliminaries. Then, on the night of the pageant, the top ten will be selected. Then, later on in the night, we will have the final five compete in the interview. Any questions? All right. Al, you can take over."

"All right!" Big Gay Al held a CD and a boombox. He plugged it in on the side of the stage. "How many do we have here? 48? OK, then get into 4 lines of 12. We have room for that, don't we?" The contestants arranged themselves into the rows. "That's super! Now, I'm going to teach you girls –" Cartman coughed. "You _contestants_ the dance routine! This will be danced by the twenty who make it to the prelims, and the ten who make it to the final night. Now, first we start with the hips." He turned around. "Start on the right. Hip, hip, hip, hip, hip, hip. We got that? Now, do four sets of six hips." The girls and boys followed him, albeit with more self-conscious and awkward hip movements. "Pretty good. Now, try that again." As they practiced, Big Gay Al walked through the rows. "No, Eric, you silly goose! You shouldn't do your hips like the girls. You need to have manly hips!" Wendy giggled, and Cartman glared. "Now, try it like me." Big Gay Al started shaking his ass in Cartman's face, and Wendy laughed even more. Actually, most of their row had joined in by this point. Cartman's face grew red with rage. "Now you try." Cartman did. "That's better! Just keep that up, cowboy." Wendy finally doubled over.

"Ay! Shut up, bitch!"

"Eric!" scolded Jesus.

"I'm sorry, Jesus," he sighed, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, Cartman shot her a nasty look, and she decided to leave it at that. _Besides, I don't want to think about Cartman's hips any more than I have to, manly or no. _She bit her lip to stop from giggling more. _This should be fun.

* * *

_

When Katie McCormick got to her room after rehearsal, the first thing she did was call Kyle.

"What do you want, Kenny?"

"No, it's Katie."

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Just got back from rehearsal."

"Really? How did it go? How's fatass doing?" Katie giggled.

"It couldn't have been better if I'd planned it. We were learning the dance routine, and we have this hip thing we have to do. Anyway, Big Gay Al came up to Cartman and told him he needed to make his hips more 'manly'. And then demonstrated." Kyle laughed on the other end.

"Was he really embarrassed?"

"Definitely. And he called Wendy a bitch, and Jesus called him out on it."

"Wow. Do you have any ideas how you're going to sabotage the act?"

"I dunno. He's not exactly the most graceful person on the stage, even considering that he's a guy. So I don't think the dance section's going to need much tweaking. It depends on his talent, his interview, and..." Katie burst out laughing.

"What?"

"The swimsuit competition," she managed to wheeze.

"OK, didn't need that image. I don't think that'll be a problem, either."

"But I think they're going to choose us for the prelims primarily on the dance routine. It's a little early to tell, but I don't think he's going to make the cut."

"Good."

"So, see you."

"Later." Kyle hung up on her. Katie smiled. It wasn't often that she had a conversation with a boy that didn't turn into phone sex.

* * *

**A/N: So, yeah. I wish I could've ended on a chapter with a little more zip, but what can you do. So, expect my first holdover oneshot the first week of November. Bye! -O42**


	6. Wendy's Day from Hell

**

* * *

OK, so this is kinda early. That's because I had some spare time, and decided to get ahead of the game. When I finished it, I wanted to post it, and... yeah, I'm just procrastinating on NaNo. So sue me.**

**Anyway, some of the talents were really easy to pick. Others were hard. I figured that I'd just go with the most clichéd beauty pageant talents. It's easier that way. **

**Also, it's sort of filler. It will be important in the future, but mainly I just wanted to write Wendy's aunts. And I'm almost certain I'll write another "Day from Hell" chapter later on.**

**So, here's the next chapter, up early just for you guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 6: Wendy's Day from Hell

Wendy, of course, had made a rather impromptu decision to sign up for the Miss Cowbell Pageant. This left her rather at ends when it came time to choose her talent.

"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap," she said, as she lay in her bed at 3 AM, the morning before she was supposed to start rehearsing her talent. Wendy could sing, but what? In her hurried state of mind, Wendy couldn't think of a song. Most of the music she listened to was either too expletive-heavy or out of her range. She wasn't a dancer, and she didn't play an instrument. She used to ice skate, but that was no good. In desperation, Wendy called the first person she could think of.

"Wendy? It's three in the morning."

"I'm aware. I need a talent." Bebe yawned and sat up.

"Sweetie, I don't think I can help you there."

"Well, you have your flute. Esther has her gymnastics. Lola and Heidi are dancing. Annie's baton twirling. What's Powder doing?"

"Singing. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to be the only one without a talent. What am I going to do?"

"I don't know."

"What's Eric doing for his talent? If he has one and I don't, he'll never let me forget it."

"Didn't you used to have a crush on him?"

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do, Bebe!"

"I dunno. Give a dumb speech or something. You're good at that." Bebe yawned again. "Listen. Unlike you, I actually don't run on two hours of sleep a day. Will you let me go to bed now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry for waking you up."

"Screw you." Then Bebe hung up. She'd never been much of a morning person.

Wendy considered her idea. It had merit. She had done a speech in sophomore year for Debate club. Something about feminism and the American dream. Won a prize for it.

The next hour was spent in a frantic search through her desk for a copy of the speech. It ended abruptly when she realized that her mom probably had a copy of it on her computer. Wendy ran downstairs, printed it out, and then rehearsed it until the break of dawn.

* * *

The next day, Wendy was in her dressing room. She was desperately trying to hide the bags under her eyes. Contrary to Bebe's beliefs, Wendy could not run on no sleep. And every click of Margie's tap shoes on the floor of their dressing room only added to Wendy's growing tension headache. She'd been getting them more this year, what with college applications and six AP classes and everything. So she popped two Tylenol and asked Margie (rather politely for her state, she felt) to stop with that damn racket. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy," she said, taking off her tap shoes. "I'm just so nervous. I mean, what if I..."

"Margie. I was up all of last night, trying to memorize a speech I wrote two years ago and now I can't stand. My head is killing me. I have five hours of homework waiting for me when I get home. Don't talk to me."

"Oh, all right." And she didn't. Wendy loved having such a malleable person to share a dressing room with.

Butters, of course, was just scared of her.

Then, with Wendy's bags still visible, they were called to the stage. She tried to ignore the fact that she wanted to shoot herself as they ran through the dance again. She tried to focus on the steps, but her mind kept wandering. _Jesus Christ, my head hurts._ Wendy found herself looking at Eric Cartman. _He's getting better. _She pirouetted. _Fuck._ Her head was pounding. She felt as if her head should actually be pulsing like a heart. Finally, Big Gay Al told them to sit down.

"OK, girls! And Eric," he added, as Cartman glared at him. "That was just super! However, some of you were less super than others. Wendy, you looked a little of it."

"I'm sorry. I h..."

"Don't make excuses, sweetie. Now, let's go over that one more time!" It eventually turned into three more times. By the end, Wendy not only wanted to die, she was planning on taking out the whole town with her. Then they sat down and Jesus wrote down their talents.

"Now, my children," he said, "these are locked, meaning that you must stick with this talent all the way through the competition. Also, you may schedule half-hour blocks to work on your talent. These will take place here. Other contestants will be barred from observing these practice sessions. You don't need to schedule practice times on the stage, but we recommend at least one, especially for dance routines. Please don't schedule any more than three." Katie McCormick raised her hand. "Yes, Katherine?"

"Why are the practice sessions private?"

"Well, first of all, we don't want the contestants to feel intimidated by the presence of their peers. Also, we have, unfortunately, had a few problems with sabotage in recent years, and we have decided to avoid that if at all possible. Anyone caught sabotaging any other contestant's chances in any way will be immediately disqualified." _Damn. That was going to be my first move. Oh, well. I'll think of something._ Katie smiled. _Man, do I love rich employers. _

"Well, all right!" said Al. "I think we're done for today, guys! Next rehearsal is Thursday, and we'll start working on our interviews. You're free to go."

"Thank God," said Wendy. She got up and walked away. Wendy was walking down the hall to her dressing room when she was intercepted by none other than Eric Cartman.

"Um. Excuse me."

"No." She sighed.

"What the hell do you want, Eric?"

"Someone's on their period."

"You know, you can't blame everything on the menstrual cycle. It's a perfectly natural bodily function, and..."

"Yeah, whatever. You need to practice your dance more, ho." Wendy, with some difficulty, managed to push past him. "Just saying!" _Prick.

* * *

_

When Wendy came home, she just wanted to finish her homework and go to bed. Of course, this plan was thwarted when she saw her mother and her aunts, Trudy and Jody, sitting on the couch. Her mother stood up, holding a dress. It was pink. It was silky. It had ruffles. It looked, in short, like something the heroine of a harlequin romance novel would wear while locked in a passionate embrace with her bare-chested man-whore.

"Mom, I'm not going to wear that. I mean, ever."

"How was your day, dear?"

"Hellish. I just want to be left alone."

"But we just wanted you to try on some dresses, darling," said Aunt Jody.

"If they all look like that, I'm not going to bother trying them on."

"Sure, they don't look like much on the hanger," Aunt Trudy said, "but they'll look wonderful on you!"

"No, they won't. I'll look like an extra in a bad costume drama."

"Wendy, try it on."

"No, Mom."

"Try it on!" Wendy stared and complied. She took the dress and went into the bathroom.

_God, what did I do to deserve this? Was I a puppy-kicker in a past life? _Then Wendy looked in the mirror. _No. I had to have been a dog rapist to deserve _this. Wendy looked like a rococo re-imagining of Little Bo Peep. _Here goes nothing._

"Oh, Wendy!" her mother said, in tones appropriate for a religious experience.

"You look so beautiful!" Aunt Trudy gasped. Wendy stared, and then stomped off, the fabric hissing all the way.

"When was the last time Wendy had a boyfriend, Mindy?" she heard Aunt Jody ask.

"I don't need a man in my life to be emotionally satisfied, goddammit!" Wendy shouted, as she slammed the bathroom door.

"Must be on the rag," Wendy's mother whispered, confidentially.


	7. The Jew and the Pauper

**Hi, again. I'm having a bad day, so I decided to write another chapter. Lucky you. **

**Oh, yeah, and hiatus is over early. Surprise. I'm still going to post my last filler oneshot on Monday, since I'm actually rather proud of it (and it's Butters. Who doesn't love Butters?). **

**I was concerned about the dialogue in this chapter, so I added the part with Stan to get the masculinity levels back up. Plus, Stan is just too much fun to write. As is Katie. I actually like Kyle quite a lot, too, although he's harder. I think a Butters chapter is up next.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 7: The Jew and the Pauper

"So you're back again, are ya?" asked Mrs. McCormick, as Kyle entered the front door.

"Is Katie here?"

"Yup."

"Is Kenny?"

"Nope."

"All right."

"Y'know, normally Katie's little boyfriends don't come back for a second time." Kyle nodded and ran into Katie's room.

"Hello, Kyle," Katie said, in a voice that was half-bored and half-seductive. Kyle closed the door behind him.

"So. How's it going?" Katie got off her bed and closed her book. _Macbeth_. Homework, probably.

"You mean in general, or specifically regarding Cartman?"

"Um. Both?" Katie smiled. Her teeth were nice, considering that the McCormicks probably couldn't afford a regular dentist.

"Well, I'm fine. I need to practice my routine."

"What is it?"

"It involves ping-pong balls." Katie laughed, and then added, in a less whorish tone, "I'm just kidding. Actually, I'm baton twirling." Kyle smiled, weakly. He cleared his throat.

"And about Cartman?"

"Oh, yeah. We practice our talents in private. Apparently some of the girls tried to sabotage another girl's routine back in the seventies. Unthinkable, right?" Kyle smiled, more easily this time. "Anyway, I'll manage to get in there. Even if I can't do anything to ruin him, it's better to know everything I can, right?"

"What about the dance?"

"Surprisingly, he's getting better. He must be practicing."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing I really can do, other than attack him with a golf club. I'm nowhere near him, so I can't 'accidentally' trip him during the dance. I could get another girl to do it, but it's probably better not to get anyone involved unless we have to."

"Do you know what he's doing for his talent?"

"Not an earthly clue. You know him. What do you think he's doing?"

"I dunno. He used to sing when he was younger, but I thought he quit after his voice dropped." Katie nodded.

"Maybe he didn't." Then came the awkward silence. Then Kyle remembered the money.

"Oh. I never gave you your $250."

"I thought it was $325."

"No, $250."

"_No_, $325. I can't tell Kenny, remember?" Kyle sighed. _Damn._

"I only brought $250."

"All right. Pay me a hundred when I make it to the prelims."

"I'm not made of money, you know!"

"Bullshit." Kyle pulled out his wallet and said nothing. _Idiot. _Of course she'd think he was made of money. She was a McCormick. _It's only $25 more than you were going to pay her. It's no big deal. _"So, where'd you get all of your money? Mom and Dad?"

"No." Kyle pulled out the five bills and handed them over. "That's seven year's worth of savings from my allowance. The rest of the money I'm giving you will be from my job." She raised her eyebrows. "I intern with my dad."

"Oh." Katie looked down at the money. "Sorry." Kyle shrugged.

"Not your fault." Kyle smiled. Katie pocketed the money, not meeting his gaze. "Well, goodbye."

"Bye." Then Kyle left. _Thinks that I just mooch off my parents. Thinks I'm just a rich kid._ Was that how Kenny saw him, too? He preferred not to think about it.

As he was walking home in the perpetual snow, his cell went off. Kyle checked the Caller ID and saw that it was Stan. He flipped it open.

"Hey, Kyle."

"Hi, Stan. What's up?"

"I need help in Pre-Calc. Can you come over?" Kyle rolled his eyes. He always ended up helping Stan with his math.

"Sure. Tell your mom to make cookies."

"OK, but tell _your_ mom that I'm not responsible for any resulting diabetic comas."

"Deal." Kyle hung up. Mrs. Marsh's cookies were worth passing out for.

* * *

"So, how was your day?" Stan asked, when they had finished his homework and were busy playing Guitar Hero. Kyle, having relaxed with a combination of trigonometry and sugar, merely shrugged.

"I went to see Katie again today."

"Oh. How did that go?"

"Not well. I mean, we sort of pissed each other off." Stan nodded. "She thinks I'm a dumb rich kid and I think that she's a biased bitch. Is all."

"Ah."

"She just... irritates me. I feel weird when I'm with her. She's such a slut. But then she can change gears and actually be kinda cool. Does this make any sense?"

"No."

"Well, too bad." Kyle sighed. "It's frustrating. And confusing. I think she's a bitch, but she's a cool bitch."

"Kyle, I'm going to give you some advice. First of all, stop talking like a girl."

"I'm not talking like a girl!"

"You're telling me that the girl you like is giving off mixed messages, and that you feel all confused inside. Pretty gay to me, dude."

"I do not... Wait, I don't like her!"

"Well, that totally ruins my next piece of advice."

"What?"

"But you don't like her."

"Just tell me!"

"Jesus. Anyway, since you like her, I suggest that you get out of this before Kenny finds out. Because if she likes you, too, then you are so incredibly dead." The song ended, and Stan took off his guitar. "Well, that was a pretty sweet song."

"I don't like her."

"Sure, Kyle."


	8. Assholes and Weirdos

**Hey, guys. Sorry it's been a while. Just the usual writer's block and insecurity. I'm going to try and make the chapters... well, better, I guess. You don't know how many drafts this one went through before I could make Cartman somewhat believable. I love Wendy, though. And Butters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 8: Assholes and Weirdos

"Hi, Margie," Wendy said, as she entered their dressing room. Margie turned away, embarrassed, and pulled on her dance pants.

"Hey."

"You know, we're both girls. I don't think you have anything I haven't seen before." Margie blushed.

"Well, I guess so. When did you schedule your p-practice?"

"Actually, I have one later today. You?"

"Oh, um. My first one's not until Monday." Then Margie's phone rang. "Um, I gotta get this." Wendy nodded.

"I need to talk to Bebe anyway. See you later!" And, with that, Wendy walked out the door.

She got about halfway to Bebe's changing room when she heard an irritatingly familiar voice call her name. She clenched her teeth and ignored him.

"Ay! Bitch!" He ran – well, waddled – up to her. "Don't ignore me." He grabbed her arm. She rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

"What do you want?"

"Well, if you had actually listened to me when I tried to talk to you, maybe I'd tell you." Wendy pulled her arm from him and walked away. "Where are you going?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to talk to Bebe."

"Why? What possibly could have happened between yesterday afternoon and today that you need to talk about?"

"You don't _need_ anything to talk about."

"I don't get it."

"Goodbye, Cartman." She then began to walk away.

"Women," she heard him mutter, and she immediately stopped.

"What do you mean by that?" she said, in an icy tone that could only mean that a trip to the Sun was in order.

"What?" Wendy narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, see you later, ho."

"I am not a ho!" He laughed as he walked away. Wendy, of course, stormed off to Bebe's room, slamming the door as she entered.

"He is _such_ an ass!"

"Who?" asked Heidi

"Well, I don't know. Who's the only guy here?"

"No need to be sarcastic," said Bebe. "So, what did he do this time?"

"Just being his stupid fucking self. First he starts yelling at me for no reason. Then he demands an explanation for me coming to see you. Then he called me a ho, as usual." She sighed. "He's such an ass." Bebe smirked. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Maybe you're overreacting a little," Heidi said, gently. Wendy shrugged.

"Whatever. Let's talk about something else."

"How's that girl? The homeschooler?" Bebe asked.

"Margie? She's all right. Nice, but kind of weird."

"Maybe she should come hang out with us after Mass," Heidi said. "Is she Catholic?"

"I dunno. Her parents are really weird, apparently. I'll have to ask."

"We'd better get on stage," Bebe said, looking at the wall clock. Wendy looked up and nodded.

"Go ahead." Bebe waved and left. Wendy brushed her hair into a ponytail. _Ugh. I hate Cartman. Why does he get to me like that? _Maybe it was because there had been that brief period in fourth grade where she'd liked him... Wendy tried to repress all memories of that dark time, although, considering that she had been teased about it until junior high, it was hard. _Or maybe he's just a sexist jerk. _In many ways, she preferred that explanation.

* * *

Butters had just hung up on his mother (apparently he had left his athletic supporter at home. It had taken him a while to convince her not to drive out the field and drop it off for him) when someone knocked on the door. He cleared his throat and opened it to see Wendy.

"We'd probably better go to the stage."

"Oh," he said, in his normal voice. He cleared his throat and, in falsetto, said, "Sure." He coughed again, when Wendy stared.

"All right." Wendy looked down. "Um. Listen. Some of the girls and I are going to go out on Sunday. Would you like to come with us?"

"Um... gosh, I dunno if my parents would let me."

"Oh. You're Catholic, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, if you can, can we meet after Mass? Then we'll go to the mall."

"All right." Butters smiled. "Can I call you if I can make it?"

"Sure. I'll write it down for you after rehearsal." Wendy smiled back. "We'd better go before Al gets here."

"O-OK." _Jeez. What am I going to tell my parents?

* * *

_

"Um, Mom and Dad?" Mr. Stotch looked up from his newspaper, and Mrs. Stotch her book.

"Yes, Butters?" his father asked.

"Uh... some of the guys on the team are having a p-pizza party."

"Really?" said Mrs. Stotch. "Do you want us to drop you off?"

"No!" He laughed. "No, thanks. I can get a ride. We're just going to, um, Todd's house."

"Oh. Who's Todd?"

"He lives in North Park. I'll walk to someone's house, and then they can drive me."

"Honey, wouldn't it be easier if I just drove you?"

"Mom, I don't want you to have to drive me all the way to North Park. It'll be easier if I just go."

"Butters..."

"Mom!"

"Butters, listen to your mother, or you'll be grounded." Butters sighed.

"OK, Mom." He then went upstairs and slammed the door to his bedroom. _Oh, heck. How am I going to get out of this one? _He took his wig out of his backpack and put it in his closet. _I need a plan. _He looked in his mirror and sighed. Cunning had never exactly been his strong point. How long had his Professor Chaos thing lasted, exactly? _This whole sneaking around thing is harder than I thought it would be._


	9. Deus Sex Machina

**OK, so I was going to edit this before I posted it, but I had a pretty bad day, so I couldn't be bothered. So, although constructive criticism and all that is appreciated, what I need right now is blind praise. **

**In other news, I **_**think**_** Kenny's straight. Although, considering how OOC he's being right now, anything can happen.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.**

Ch. 9: Deus (S)ex Machina

Butters spent Mass biting his nails and avoiding Wendy's searching gaze rather than praying. Butters had been very pious as a child, but after he figured out that he was gay, that sort of fell apart.

_"Mom, just take me to his house. He can drive me to the party."_

_"Have you called him?"_

_"Y-yes, Mom."_

_"All right, Butters."_

Butters had tried to call him, but he kept getting the answering machine. It was funny how they hadn't changed it in... four years? Probably longer. It'd been a while since Butters had called that number. At least freshman year. Thank gosh it was still good.

"Mom, can I go to the little boys' room?"

"Number one or number two?" Butters rolled his eyes and muttered,

"A little bit of both."

"Don't take too long!" Butters nodded and walked out the pew, down the aisle, and to the bathroom as quickly as possible. _Does she even know that I'm seventeen?_ As soon as he reached the men's room, he pulled out his cell phone and pressed a name on the Contact menu. He patiently listened to the answering machine, which he had heard about seven times since yesterday.

"You drunk BASTARD! Leave a message at the sound of the – goddammit, Kevin! – beep." And Butters did.

"Hey. It's Butters Stotch. I-I know that we haven't talked in a while, but... I need to come over to your house for a little while after Mass. Oh, and my mom thinks we're on a s-soccer team together. I'll explain everything w-when I get there. Hope this isn't to sudden, or nuthin'. Oh, this is Butters. Bye!"

When Butters returned to Mass, he decided to pray to God to forgive his sins and deceitfulness. He wasn't exactly sure if God listened to gay liars, but he figured it couldn't possibly hurt.

* * *

Kenny McCormick got the message well before Butters arrived. It was, in fact, too sudden. His mother had gone grocery shopping (Kenny vowed that, if he ever managed to make something of himself, he would never touch another frozen waffle), Katie was in her room listening to the radio, and Kevin had skipped town three years ago. But Stuart...

"So, yer little friend's comin' over?" He was drunk, as usual.

"Yeah," Kenny said, picking up the empty beer cans. God forbid that his father be sober for fucking _church_. "Butters Stotch." Why, he had no idea. Butters wasn't exactly the kind of kid who ever needed people to cover for him. And he wasn't picking up his cell.

"The faggy blond kid?"

"That's the one. Listen, don't say anything other than 'hi', all right?"

"I'm gonna hafta kick yer ass one o' these days, you know that?" _One more year, Ken. _Before his father could elaborate, Kenny saw a car pull up. He threw the bottles in the trash and ran outside.

As Kenny approached, Butters smiled and opened the car door.

"Now, Butters, call me when you need picking up, OK?"

"All right, Mom."

"So, how's the team going, Kenny?" He gave his best choir-boy smile.

"Really good, thank you, Mrs. Stotch."

"Well, great. Have fun at the party, boys!" Mrs. Stotch waved and drove off. Kenny turned to the shorter boy.

"OK, so what's up?"

"Gosh, it's a long story."

"How long are you staying?" Kenny asked, as they walked in the living room.

"Hey, faggy blond kid," Mr. McCormick called out. Kenny scowled at his father, not noticing Butters gulp. Kenny led him into the hallway.

"Uh, can I go in your room? Alone?"

"I guess. Why?"

"I'll just be a few minutes." Butters went into the room and shut the door. Kenny leaned on the wall. _If I go back in there and he's naked, I'm gonna hurl._ Although Butters had the cute skinny look. It certainly looked better on guys like Butters, who were naturally skinny, than on guys like himself, where you could count the ribs.

"O-OK, you can come in now." Kenny took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Jesus Christ!" Butters pulled Kenny in and slammed the door. Butters was... well. Kenny sat down on the bed. Blonde wig, blue turtleneck over fake boobs, gray miniskirt, white tights, black shoes. He looked strangely feminine, and kinda... "Oh, God."

"Kenny, I..."

"Do you... why... what?"

"I-I wanted to j-join the Miss Cowbell Pageant. But I couldn't let my p-parents know. They'd ground me for sure. So I... dressed up like this."

"And... fuck!"

"You're the only person I could th-think of. Gosh, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" That came out harsher than he meant it to. Butters was close to tears now. "No, I..." Kenny took a deep breath. "So. You're gay?" Butters nodded. "Are you a transvestite?"

"I don't think so. I'm still a boy, if that's what you mean." Kenny smiled.

"No. I mean, do you think of yourself as a girl, or something like that?"

"No. I.. I don't _think_ I do, anyhow."

"Why did you come here?"

"I have to meet Wendy at the mall. We're having a girls' day. My m-mom thinks I'm going to a soccer party." Kenny stood up. _Well, it could've been worse._

"I'll drive you." Butters's face lit up. "But we have to be careful. I don't want to have to explain why I'm sneaking a cross dresser out of my bedroom."

"OK." Kenny opened the window. "Wait. I'm gonna have to jump?"

"Yeah. It's like two feet. No big deal."

"But... what if I mess up my outfit?" Kenny raised an eyebrow. "I spent a hour figuring out this!"

"Just jump, Butters."

"But..."

"Jump." Butters sighed and lowered himself into the bushes. It taken about three weeks for him to go to the mall by himself to get girl clothes. He really didn't want to ruin them.

Kenny followed after, as Butters checked his outfit. Nothing torn or stained, thank goodness. Kenny shook his head as he saw him examining the clothes.

"You look fine." He paused. "Don't tell anyone I said that." Butters nodded as Kenny led him into the garage, which had no door. They had a beat-up pick-up truck.

"Do you have the keys?" Kenny shook his head.

"We lost the keys about two years ago." He knelt down to fiddle with the wires, and the car turned on.

"Gosh. Aren't you worried that someone might steal it?" Kenny laughed as he got in the driver's seat. Butters slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Kenny drove the car out and towards the mall. For a while, they said nothing.

"So. How long have you known?" Kenny asked. Butters shrugged.

"I dunno. Coupla years, I guess." Kenny nodded. "I'm sorry for the i-inconvenience."

"No prob. But... why did you come to me? We haven't talked since freshman year."

"Well, I dunno. When you came and sat with me for those coupla weeks... I dunno. I don't have many friends, y'see. You were just the first person I thought of. That I could trust." Kenny laughed.

"You know I'm not gay, right?" Butters smiled.

"Yeah."

"Good." Kenny pulled into the mall parking lot. "Well, I'll see you at school tomorrow. Want me to pick you up?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll call you." Butters got out of the truck. "Thanks again."

"No problem. See you later." Butters nodded, and Kenny drove away. Butters went inside the food court and looked around. Almost immediately, he saw Red's hair. He waved, and apparently the girls saw him. Lola waved him over, and Butters sat down at their table.

"Hey, Margie."

"Hiya, girls."

"I looked for you after Mass, but I couldn't find you," Wendy said. "Were you there?"

"Didn't you get my message? I couldn't go." Wendy nodded.

"Why not?" asked Heidi. Butters shrugged.

"Parents. So," he said, quickly, "y'all excited for the prelims?"

"Yeah," said Sally. "Wonder who's going to make it."

"Hopefully not Cartman," Wendy said.

"Definitely not Cartman," Bebe said. Lola shrugged.

"Probably not Cartman."

* * *

Kenny came through the living room door. He didn't have to explain where he'd been, because his parents were fighting again.

"You fucking douche!"

"Whore!"

"Asshole!" Kenny slammed his door and turned up his music. He barely heard a knock on the door. He sighed and shouted,

"Come in." Katie opened the door and walked in. He turned off the boombox. "What's up?" Katie shrugged. It reminded him of when they used to go into Kevin's room when they were kids, and their parents had a fight. Kevin wasn't exactly the best big brother ever, but they were all they had.

"Who was that girl?"

"What girl?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Ken. That girl you were sneaking out of your room."

"Oh. Just some girl."

"She's in the pageant. Margie."

"Why did you ask me who she was if you already knew?"

"I'm not you, you know. I'm not going to be mad just because you have random girls over. So, how'd you meet her?"

"I dunno. School."

"How was she?"

"I'm not talking about that with my little sister."

"Oh, come on."

"No!" Kenny stood up, and Katie raised an eyebrow.

"May I remind you, Ken, that you're the one who had a sizeable porn collection at the age of eight? And you're grossed out now?"

"It's just weird. You know. You're my sister."

"Whatever. See you at dinner." Katie walked out. Kenny sighed. _Fuck. She's onto me._

_And how _did_ she know about my porn collection, anyway?_


	10. The Top Twenty

**Yay. I've been looking forward to this chapter. Not as much as I'm looking forward to Chapter Twelve, but a lot, anyway. And I bet you guys thought I forgot about the mayor and Barbrady. You'd be wrong. Although I did set out to have more of a focus on them. Whatever. And I might have spelled "Katherine" wrong. Oh, who cares.**

**Also, I'm feeling OK, so leave con crit if you feel like it. Although blind praise is always welcome. And I used OPL's last name for Lola in this chapter. The rest are either canonical or made up. And, since both Heidi's and Powder's last names are Turner, I made them cousins. Also, I really love Bebe in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. Or anything, really.**

Ch. 10: The Top Twenty

"And that is how the American dream relates to feminism. Thank you." Wendy took a deep breath. She was so not ready, and it was nearly her final practice block, where Big Gay Al, Mayor McDaniels, and Officer Barbrady would judge her to see if she'd make it into the final twenty contestants. Not ready.

"Hey, Wendy," Token said, as he went out the auditorium. Wendy smiled, weakly. "What're you doing for your talent?"

"Speech." She paused. "Wait, why are you here?"

"Cartman," he said, barely able to control his disdain. "He's paying us to play for his talent."

"Who?"

"Me, Kenny, and Tweek. It's our first gig."

"So, what's Cartman doing?"

"Singing." Wendy laughed.

"Cartman? With that nasal voice of his?"

"He's pretty good, Wendy. I'd watch out." She stopped laughing and smiled at her ex-boyfriend.

"Thanks, Token." He smiled and walked away. Wendy sighed and went back to her speech. Now that she thought about it, her break-up with Token had started those rumors about her orientation. They had mostly died down since then, but it still came up occasionally. Apparently straight girls couldn't remain friends with their exes. Besides, he was going out with Annie now.

Soon enough, Kenny and Tweek came out.

"Ngh! I totally messed up!"

"You did great, Tweek. Hey, Wendy."

"Hi, Ken. Hey, Tweek."

"Gah!" Then, as they left, Cartman himself exited the room into the hallway.

"Why, hello, Wendy."

"Go away."

"Well, no need to be so rude."

"This from the guy who can't call it a day if he hasn't seriously offended at least fifteen minorities."

"Don't be silly. On a good day, I can get in thirty." Wendy looked up from her speech.

"Do you say these things just to get me mad? Because I have better things to do."

"Why do you always assume it's about you?"

"Oh, yeah? Then what is it about?" He paused.

"Me, of course." Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Just go away, Eric."

"Whatever, hippy. Oh, and it's your turn." Wendy glared at him and ran in the auditorium.

"Hello, Miss Testaburger," Mayor McDaniels said, as Wendy walked onto the stage. "What are you going to thrill us with now?"

"I have a speech to give."

"Well, that's interesting," said Officer Barbrady. Wendy took a deep breath and started the speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

* * *

"Y'ready for the announcement, Wendy?" Butters asked, as Wendy tied her hair back. She shrugged.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Good luck."

"Gee, thanks. I hope you get in, too."

"Listen, after this, do you want to sleep over at my house?" Butters thought quickly. It was amazing how much better he was getting at that.

"Oh, I dunno. My folks don't really like me going to places with people they don't know."

"Well, we could go to your house, if that's all right."

"No!" He laughed. "I mean..."

"Margie?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you always so twitchy when I mention your parents?" Butters bit his lip. "I mean, Butters can be kind of a spaz, but..."

"You want to know the truth?"

"Yeah." Butters sighed.

"My parents don't know that I'm in the pageant." _Well, it _is _true, _he justified. _It just ain't the whole truth, is all._

"Really? Where do they think you are, then?"

"Um. Homeschooled kids' meeting. Y'know, in North Park." Wendy didn't look as if she bought it, but nodded.

"All right. So, how'd you get away from them to go to the mall with us?"

"Told them that the counselors were having, um. A ping-pong tournament." _I need to write all of this down._ He sighed."My parents would never let me do anything like this."

"Well, won't they find out when they come to the pageant?"

"They wouldn't come." It was slightly scary, but also rather thrilling, how quickly the lies came. _I should probably be more worried about this._

"OK," Wendy said, skeptically. And she said nothing more.

* * *

"All right, guys!" said Big Gay Al, as the last of the contestants filed onto the stage. "Mayor McDaniels, Officer Barbrady and I have tallied up our scores, and we have the twenty lucky ladies... er, _contestants_... who will move on to the preliminaries!"

"Why do we even _have_ prelims?" Heidi wondered aloud (but not loud enough that anyone but Wendy could hear her). Wendy shrugged.

"It's South Park. They make a huge deal out of everything."

"In all, we have thirteen seniors, six juniors, and one sophomore who made it to the finals. Our first lucky contestant is junior Isabella Anderson! The next is senior Bertha Bailey! Then we have the one and only Eric Cartman."

"Yes," he hissed. Wendy gaped. _How did Eric get in? _

"Wendy, close your mouth before someone sees," Bebe said, nonchalantly. Wendy complied.

"Our next contestant is senior Margaret Deary!" Margie looked around, as if there might be another Margaret Deary in the room, then beamed at Wendy. She remembered to smile back. _Was Token right? Is Cartman really any good at his talent? _She sighed. _I'm never going to be able to live it down if he wins._ Lost in thought, she missed the next four contestants. Bebe had to elbow her before she started paying attention again.

"Next, Lola Mandoval! And, our lucky sophomore, Katherine McCormick!" Katie sat up straighter.

"Slut," Heidi coughed. Bebe smiled, but Wendy was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Eric had gotten into the top twenty.

"Congratulations, Heidi Turner!"

"Good job," Bebe whispered. Heidi thanked her. Bebe elbowed Wendy, and she nodded. Heidi just smiled.

"What's wrong with you?" said Bebe, quietly, as Big Gay Al named Heidi's cousin, Powder, as the next contestant to make it.

"Nothing. Just, you know."

"Your little obsession with Cartman?"

"I'm not _obsessed._"

"He's the only guy you ever talk about."

"Bebe Stevens!" Big Gay Al said. Bebe sat up, then realized that she had made it.

"Congratulations, Bebe," Heidi said.

"Thanks."

"I talk about other guys!"

"Wendy Testaburger!" Heidi grinned at Wendy, who managed to smile back. _Well, he hasn't beaten me yet._

"Seriously, Wends. If you have to obsess over someone, why would you pick a complete waste of space like Eric Cartman?"

"I'm not obsessed with him!" Wendy blushed as the other contestants turned to face her. She saw Cartman snigger. She shot him an icy glare, and Big Gay Al read out the last three contestants, all three juniors.

"Well, thanks to everyone who joined the pageant! If I did not call your name, I am afraid that You did not make it to the next round. But, remember, you're all winners!" _What sort of stupid expression is that, anyway? _Wendy wondered, as all of the contestants filed out. _Isn't the whole point of being the winner that there's only one?_

"So, bitch. We're both in the next round."

"Unfortunately. And don't call me a bitch."

"I'll call you whatever I want, ho!" She slapped him. "Ay! What's your problem?"

"My problem is you."

"Oh, you're pissy because I got in, too!"

"I wouldn't put it that way."

"Which way would you put it?"

"Listen, Cartman. I am going to walk away. You are not going to try and talk to me anymore. If you say so much as a word, I will punch your face in. Got it?" Cartman laughed.

"Go home and bake something, ho." And Wendy made good on her promise.

"Wendy!" Bebe shouted, as she pulled Wendy away from the boy before she could get in another punch. "What are you doing?"

"Fucking bitch!"

"He wouldn't shut up," Wendy explained.

"Have you ever considered that you might be overreacting, just a tiny _fucking_ bit?" Wendy shook her hand.

"My thumb hurts."

"Oh, your thumb hurts. Poor you. You could get kicked out the pageant, or even _sued_, and all you can think about is your stupid thumb!"

"I don't give a damn about the pageant." The blonde sighed.

"OK. You don't care about the pageant. But what if you got kicked out. Then Cartman would still be in it. So watch your step."

"You're low, Bebe. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Whatever you say." Bebe led Wendy to her dressing room. "Well, I highly doubt that Cartman will admit to being hit by a girl, even though you probably hurt yourself more than you hurt him."

"It's not as if I could help it, Bebe. He just... pushes my buttons."

"Yes. And I bet you push several of his."

"But he never loses that damn smirk!" She paused. "_I _push his buttons? What's that supposed to mean?" Bebe rolled her eyes.

"Forget I said anything. Let's just get you changed before he gets over his shock."


	11. Conspirators

**Yay, winter holidays! To celebrate the first day of Christmas break, I will write this chapter for you guys. Also, my favorite chapter is up next. I quite like this one, though. I managed to write in all of the major characters up to this point. **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own South Park. I'm working on it, though.**

Ch. 11: Conspirators

It was a very rare occasion that Wendy Testaburger sought out Eric Cartman to speak with him. And when she did, it wasn't for idle chit-chat.

"Whaddaya want, ho?"

"Don't call me a ho." Wendy sighed. _Be the big person, Wendy. _"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. About yesterday." Cartman simply got a book out of his locker. "I know this doesn't happen to you very often, but you're supposed to say 'I'm sorry, too'."

"Why? I'm not sorry. Why should I say so?"

"Were you raised by wolves or something?"

"Nope, just my mom."

"Whatever. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I just think that it would probably be better for both of us if we tried not to kill each other." Cartman laughed, bitterly.

"Both of us? May I remind you that _you _hit _me_? You're just looking to cover your own ass." She stood there for a second, stunned. Then she smiled.

"Well, that might be true. But you can also get disqualified for unladylike behavior. I'm sure that you can also get kicked out for ungentlemanly behavior. That includes calling innocent respectable honor students 'hoes'. Who are they going to believe? A straight-A student who's going to Brown, or _you_?"

"They'll believe," he said, turning to face the smaller brunette, "in whoever makes the better show. And whoever tells them about the unfortunate Miss Ellen." He smirked. "Who's respectable _now_?"

"How... how... Who told you?"

"No one." He grinned. "Until now." Wendy's shock vanished and turned into rage.

"Listen to me, Eric Cartman," she said, grabbing the front of his shirt. "What happened to Miss Ellen can easily happen to you. I still have my contacts, you know. So don't fuck with me." She waited. She waited as fear, nervousness, even confusion spread across his face.

She was disappointed. All he did was smirk.

"Fuck, Wendy. Don't get your panties in a twist. It's just a pageant." He pushed her off of him.

"I hate you."

"Sure you do." Then he walked away. "See you Saturday, ho. May the best _man _win." _You can still salvage this._

"So, truce?" she called, weakly. Cartman guffawed, not even looking back.

* * *

_Kyle, you can do this._ He was hanging out in the hallway leading to cafeteria. _It's just as well that you have a study hall during sophomore lunch. _He scanned the mass of barely-pubescent faces. _They all look the same! _He saw at least three girls with red-blond hair. He was about to ask someone when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Katie McCormick standing there.

"Jesus Christ. How did you..."

"Are you kidding? You could see that hair from a mile away." Kyle quickly pulled his green ushanka on. "Oh, that's a great disguise."

"Be quiet." He grabbed her elbow and led her away.

"How does that hat still fit you? You've been wearing it for ten years now."

"It's not the same _one_." Kenny turned into a mostly-deserted hallway and pulled up his hood.

"So, what do you want?"

"Cartman's in the next round."

"So am I."

"Yeah. So..."

"No need to congratulate me, or anything."

"Christ, Katie!" She just stared at him. "Congratulations."

"No big deal. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Kyle's eyes darted around the hall. "Why are you so nervous?"

"Are you kidding? Kenny's skinny, but he can punch."

"You always manage to hold your own."

"Against _Cartman_."

"I was thinking. If you want him out of the running so bad, why don't you just take a baseball bat to him?"

"Why don't _you_?" He sighed. "Assault and battery is a crime. Plus, it'll look really bad on my college applications."

"So, is Yale knocking down the door, getting you to attend?"

"I got waitlisted, actually."

"Oh." Katie cleared her throat. "Anyway, I have an idea for the prelims. Don't worry."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"I could." She laughed.

"Do you do this to everyone, or just me?"

"Depends. You're just so easy to get a rise out of." Kyle considered this, and shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Definitely." They laughed.

"Well, I'd better get back to lunch. My friends will wonder where I've gone." She paused. "Nah, they'll probably guess that I went off with a senior."

"What!"

"Like I said. Too easy." She brushed his sleeve as she walked away. "See you!"

"See you."

* * *

"Hey, Butters." Butters looked up to see Kenny sitting by him in the library. Normally Butters had lunch alone while studying for Pre-Calc.

"K-kenny! What're you doin' here?"

"Well, I figured that the guys could go without me for a day." Kenny pulled out a stale waffle. "You going to eat that brownie?" Butters passed the little shrink-wrapped brownie to Kenny, who wolfed it down. He was still dumbfounded.

"But... why?"

"Brownies are good." Butters shook his head.

"You don't have to have lunch with me, if you don't wanna. I don't wanna be a charity case."

"Well, I just figured you'd want some company. I can go if you'd rather be alone."

"No!" Butters sighed. "It's just... you never sat with me before."

"Except for freshman year."

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe I want to try sitting with you again." Butters nodded and left it at that. Kenny took a bite of waffle. "So, you made it to the next round?" Butters nodded.

"So did Katie."

"Yeah," Kenny said, smiling. "Only sophomore to make it, you know. We're real proud of her."

"You betcha. So you're coming to prelims?"

"I have to. We're playing for Cartman."

"Really?"

"Yeah. First gig. He's paying us and everything."

"Well, good luck."

"And what're you doing?"

"Tap-dancing. I'm getting better. I haven't killed anyone in six months!"

"That's... good?" Butters smiled.

"D'ya want this apple?"

* * *

"So, wait. You tried to set up a truce with _Cartman_?" Bebe said. "I swear. You are the dumbest smart person I have ever met."

"Well, what's the alternative? Fighting?"

"You guys have been fighting since you were kids, sweetie."

"I know. But now there's the pageant."

"I thought you didn't care about the pageant."

"I don't! But he does." Bebe laughed.

"God, no wonder you haven't had a boyfriend since sophomore year."

"First of all, I'm perfectly happy without a man in my life, and second of all, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you have to admit that you're kind of a ball buster."

"Am not!"

"Are, too."

"Shut up. And I could have a boyfriend, if I wanted."

"Who?" Wendy shrugged. "Cartman?"

"Ew. Don't even joke about that, Bebe."

"You used to have a crush on him."

"Like, for two days. Ten years ago. How come nobody can ever forget that?"

"Because you made out with him in public?"

"Anyway, not Cartman." Wendy and Bebe sat down at the lunch table. "Definitely not Cartman. That'd be weird."

"Whatever." Wendy poked her lunch with a plastic fork.

"Do you think I should try talking to him again?"

"Who? The guy you definitely don't like?" Bebe said, smiling.

"You're an asshole sometimes. And I hate Cartman."

"It seems like you've done enough talking today, Wends."

* * *

"So, she's actually going to do something at the preliminaries?" Stan asked. Kyle nodded as he took a bite of his burger. The Broflovskis weren't very kosher. "Wow. What happens if someone...?"

"I dunno, dude. She'll probably rat me out." Stan raised his eyebrows. "Nothing's going to happen, Stan. If it does..." _No one's going to believe her over me. _He hated to think it, but he knew that was his only option, if Katie got careless.

"Well, OK." He paused. "Where's Kenny?" Kyle shrugged.

"He said he had to go to the library or something." Cartman then slammed his tray on the table. He had three cheeseburgers and two portions of fries, as well as a Coke. Cartman sat down.

"'Sup, fags?"

"Nothing," Kyle said, a bit too quickly. Cartman, however, didn't react. He simply took a huge bite of cheeseburger. "W-what about you?" _This _he noticed. "Uh, fatass."

"Fucking ho."

"Who, Wendy?" Stan asked. Normally they didn't talk about his ex-girlfriend, Kyle's old flame, and Cartman's mortal enemy. But Cartman nodded.

"She's such a selfish bitch." Stan and Kyle looked at each other. Cartman occasionally went on these tirades, not always about Wendy. "Goddamn ho, thinks she's so high and mighty, comes up to _me _and says she doesn't want to fight. I tell her tough shit and then she gets all pissy, like it's _my _fault. Bitch." _Sometimes I think that he just makes up random strings of swear words and ties them together, _thought Kyle, as he sipped his own (Diet) Coke. _I need a Red Bull._

It was then that Kyle saw her walk over.

"Speak of the devil," he said. Cartman turned to face Wendy.

"Hi, guys," she said, in her characteristically high-pitched voice. It wasn't as noticeable as it used to be, but it was still there. "Um, I need to talk to Eric for a sec."

"OK," Stan said, and didn't move.

"I think she means alone, dude," Kyle said.

"Oh. OK." Stan and Kyle took their lunches and left. Wendy shook her head and sat down next to Cartman. She started to say something, but he held up one large, cheese-stained hand.

"Don't waste your breath. I know what you're going to say. You don't want to fight anymore, all that crap. Well, too bad, ho. I'm not going to buddy up to you, except on my terms. So, don't come up to me, little miss Harvard..."

"Brown."

"And act all high and mighty and expect me just to fall in line. Got it?" He smiled. "Now, is there anything you'd like to add?" Her mind drew a blank.

"You shouldn't be eating so much red meat," she blurted. "It's not good for you." With a sneer, he got up and left her alone at the table. _OK, there is no way that I fucked up _that_ badly twice in one day. He must think I'm a total idiot._

_Wait. Why do I care what Eric Cartman thinks about me?_

_But I don't care. I don't care at all. He's an asshole. I could care less about what he thinks. He's a stupid, conceited, immature, misogynistic pig. I hate him._

_Right?_


	12. Teenage Ambitions

**Yay! This is the chapter I have been looking forward to. I hope you guys aren't disappointed. I don't think I did a very good job, but I decided to go ahead and post it, since I'm going to be without Internet access for the next couple of days. Visiting the family, and all. Also, this is the longest chapter so far.**

**Anyway, here it is!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. Or the song used in this fic. So don't sue.**

Ch. 12: Teenage Ambition

It was chaos backstage at the Miss Cowbell Pageant. It was approximately ten minutes before the first night of public prelims would kick off, and the contestants were freaking out.

"Powder! Where did you put my mascara?"

"Oh my God, where did my outfit go?"

"Has anyone seen my deodorant?"

"Goddammit, Token!" This was, of course, Eric Cartman. "How could you lose your cables?"

"I don't know! They were here just a second ago!"

"I swear to God, I will kick you squaw in the nuts if you cause me to lose, you black asshole!"

"Don't call me a black asshole, you bigot!"

"Oh, God!" Tweek shouted. "It's going to be terrible!"

"Shut the hell up, Tweek."

"Guys, it's not a big deal. We have a spare set of cables in the truck, after all," Kenny said. Cartman stared at him.

"Well, why didn't you mention that _before_, you poor piece of crap!"

"Is someone having stage fright?" Kenny teased.

"No, I am NOT having fucking stage fright, so go get the goddamn cables!"

"Jesus would not be pleased," the blond said, as he ran outside.

Cartman rolled his eyes and went into his dressing room. The girls were wearing sparkly pink dresses for the dance, while Cartman was wearing the gayest pink shirt ever. That's what you get for letting the faggy choreographer pick out the costumes.

_Goddamn, I'd better get that $10,000.

* * *

_

"Five more minutes!" someone called, and the girls (and Cartman) got into their places.

"You ready?" Bebe asked Wendy. Wendy shrugged.

"I hate this dress." It was a bright pink sequined halter dress. Bebe, of course, managed to make it look great.

"It doesn't do much for you," Bebe admitted.

"Well, thanks."

"Not my fault. You work the hot librarian look, though." Bebe had picked out a charcoal pencil skirt and a silk blouse for Wendy's talent.

"Ugh. I can't believe I have to go first."

"You'll do fine."

The lights went up on the stage. Wendy blinked as Jesus walked on stage, to thunderous applause.

"Thank you! Welcome, my children, to the first round of preliminaries for the Miss Cowbell Pageant!" More applause from the audience. "Tonight will be the dance and talent portions of the preliminaries. Next Saturday will be the bathing suit competition and the interviews. Here are the contestants!" Jesus moved out of the way, and the contestants stepped up, like they'd practiced. The music began, and the contestants began their dance. No one messed up too badly. Even Cartman's hips, which he had struggled with, were suitably manly. So, when the dance was over, everyone applauded, and Wendy ran offstage ahead of the other contestants.

Wendy ran into her dressing room. She yanked off the dress and put on her blouse and skirt. She changed her shoes, re-powdered her face, and was ready to go. She saw Cartman in the hall, but she ignored him.

"Seriously, brethren. Tonight, we have a very special young woman giving us a speech about an important topic. Give it up for Wendy Testaburger!" Wendy walked onstage, waving.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. As we all know..."

* * *

Meanwhile, Katie McCormick was getting changed. She was up next. She'd gotten a tacky blue sequin number from Goodwill. Katie wasn't really going for subtle. She was _baton-twirling_, for God's sake. Possibly the tackiest talent ever.

She looked in the mirror and felt the tiniest twinge of guilt. Maybe she shouldn't have thrown those cables in the dumpster. _Oh, well. Token's rich. He can buy new cables._ _The important thing is sabotaging Cartman's act._ _And getting the money, of course. _She sighed. _I'd better get ready to go._ Then she heard her cell go off. She picked it up and saw a text from Kyle. _So? _Katie smiled and replied, _Wait and see. _She sent it, snapped the phone shut, and went out the door, batons in hand.

* * *

Wendy was waiting backstage while Kenny's little sister was doing her talent. Cartman was up next, then Lola, then Bebe. Bebe walked up to her. Her outfit was a sequin-y thing that would have made a good band uniform if the neckline hadn't gone down to her bellybutton (well, practically) and the shorts barely covering her butt.

"What do you think?" Bebe asked. She even had a sequin-encrusted bandleader hat on.

"You look like a stripper."

"Yeah, that's what I was going for."

"Bebe, you _do _realize that Jesus is hosting?"

"Whatever." Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Just make sure your boobs don't fall out. I think showing nipple gets you disqualified." Bebe looked down.

"Yeah. I'll just use some more double-sided tape. Thanks!" Wendy stared as Bebe walked off. She sighed. Then she saw Eric walking up to her.

"Hey."

"What do you want, Cartman?"

"Did you see Token's cables anywhere?"

"No."

"Did _you _take them?"

"No!"

"Good." Wendy sighed.

"G-good luck."

"Whatever." Wendy decided to let it go. _Did we actually have a somewhat civil exchange there? _She shook her head as he walked away.

"Thank you, Katie," said Jesus. Kenny, Tweek, and Token were setting up their instruments. "Now, this is a historical moment for the Miss Cowbell Pageant. This year, we have our first male contestant. Please give a round of applause for Eric Cartman!" Cartman then walked onstage. The applause was half-hearted, but this didn't seem to faze him. He simply nodded at Kenny.

Wendy leaned on the side of the hall, watching Cartman. _Wonder how this is going to go down._ She was vaguely surprised that she didn't want him to do badly.

Kenny started to play. The chords were vaguely familiar.

"I never meant to be so bad to you..."

_Heat of the Moment! _Wendy smiled. _I haven't heard that song in ages._

"One look from you and I would fall from grace, and that would wipe the smile right from my face." _Token was right. He's not bad. _His voice was still nasal, but there was no denying that he had the charisma thing going. He had the crowd clapping along, for God's sake! Cartman turned to Wendy and smirked.

"It was the heat of the moment, telling me what your heart meant. Heat of the moment, shone in your eyes." _God, am I _blushing? _I'm Wendy Testaburger. I don't blush. _But she was smiling. She was tapping her foot to the music. She was watching Eric Cartman rocking the crowd.

Then something clicked.

_Oh, God. _Suddenly she felt as if she'd fall over. Wendy scrambled towards a chair and collapsed into it. _This isn't happening. This is _not _happening. _

"You can't concern yourself with bigger things..."

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. This is all Bebe's fault. If she hadn't mentioned anything, then I wouldn't even be thinking about this._

"Cuz it's the heat of the moment, the heat of the moment..."

_I mean, _Eric Cartman_? I know we had that thing back in fourth grade, but we do stupid things when we're kids..._

"... shone in your eyes."

_This isn't _possible. _I mean, he's... _him. _Oh, God. _She rocked back and forth. _Why me? Why is it always me? _She looked up. She could see him. There was no denying the attraction. No explaining it, but no denying it. _Get a grip. He's going to be the same annoying prick when the song's over. He's just, you know. _

_Fucking hell. _

"And when your looks are gone and you're alone, how many nights you sit beside the phone..."

_But... but... I _can't. _I just can't._

"It was the heat of the moment, telling you what your heart meant..."

_It's not as if I like him, or anything. I still hate him. I hate him. He's stupid and selfish and misogynistic..._

"Heat of the moment..."

_I don't like him._

"Heat of the moment..."

_I can't like him._

"Heat of the moment..."

_I..._

And, suddenly, the song was over. The audience cheered so loud, backstage was shaking. Wendy barely noticed. She'd already had her world shaken.

"Beat that, bitch," Cartman said, as he walked up to her. Wendy keep her eyes on his shoes. Big shoes. Big shoes, big feet, big hands, big...

"Ay!" Wendy stood up.

"I... I... I gotta... um... bye." Then she ran to the bathroom.

"What the hell's her problem?" Cartman asked. Kenny, who was carrying his amps, raised an eyebrow.

* * *

Wendy went into the bathroom, locked herself in a stall, sat down, and forced herself to take deep breaths.

_It's going to be OK. It's going to be OK._

_How is it going to be OK? I'm attracted to Cartman. Again._

_But do I like him? _Wendy thought about it and shook her head. She still thought he was an ass. It's just that now she wanted to screw him.

_Ew. _Just admitting it repulsed her. But why? Why did she want him now? She took another deep breath. _OK. Maybe this is just like fourth grade. Only it's the next level. Maybe I'm just feeling like this because I've been forced to interact with him. It's just sexual tension. Nothing more. I can just grab him and get this over with._

_The problem with that_, she thought, _is that Eric Cartman is an ass. He wouldn't just let me rape him, like a normal boy. No. He'd never let me forget it. So now I have to get him to make the first move. Then, when I'm in a position of power, so to speak, I can swear him to secrecy. _

_All I have to do is make him make the first move. _

_God, why me?_

She took another deep breath and decided to leave the bathroom. She went out of the stall and opened the door to the hallway.

"Are you going for the four-piece set, or something?" Kenny asked. Wendy jumped in surprise.

"Have you been waiting out here for me?"

"Answer my question first." Wendy sighed. She liked Kenny enough when she had a boyfriend. It's just when she was single that he got obnoxious.

"I don't know what you mean?"

"Stan. Kyle. Cartman. I'm just wondering if you'd get to me anytime soon."

"What are you talking about?"

"You like Cartman."

"I do not!"

"I've seen plenty of lusty ladies. I recognize the look."

"Has anyone ever told you you're an ass?"

"Plenty of times. Normally the phrase 'fine piece of' works its way in there, but I take what I can get." Wendy stared at him. "Seriously. Do you?"

"I don't _like _him. Per say."

"Oh. So it's just physical. Well, I can't say that I understand."

"Do you think _I _understand?" She sighed. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he hates you."

"You think?"

"Well, I'm sort of his best friend. I ought to know."

"How are you sort of his best friend, anyway?"

"You know how Stan and Kyle are basically attached at the hip? That sort of made us friends by default. He's an ass, and he hates me, but we stick together"

"Well, I'm not one to judge, am I?" She paused. "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you." Kenny scoffed.

"That's not much of a threat."

"Please?"

"I won't tell him. Don't worry." Wendy smiled.

"Was it really obvious?"

"I... I... I gotta... um... bye," Kenny said, affecting a ridiculous high-pitched voice. Wendy laughed.

"I don't sound like that." Kenny shrugged. "I don't!"

"Whatever. Anyway, he probably won't notice. I think you're the only girl he's ever talked to." Token walked up to them.

"Hey, Wendy. Kenny, Tweek's freaking out. He says one of the gnomes stole his drumstick."

"Again?" he asked, sardonically. "I'd better go."

"OK. Bye." Kenny waved as he walked away. Token stared at him.

"Were you and Wendy..."

"No, I wasn't making a pass at your ex."

"That'd be a first."

"She likes someone else, anyway."

"Ah," Token said, as if he wasn't totally convinced.

"Where's Katie?" Token shrugged.

* * *

Katie was, in fact, in her dressing room, silently cursing the world. _I should've known that there'd be a spare. _The phone rang again.

"What was the plan again?" Katie sighed.

"I stole Token's cables. They had a back-up."

"And that was the grand scheme?"

"Well, what was I supposed to do?"

"I dunno. Make sure that they have an accident?"

"Listen, I did my best. I'm not exactly Tony Soprano."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed. "We're just going to have to think of something else."

"I guess."

"You were good, by the way."

"Wait, you're here?"

"Yeah. Right now I'm in the bathrooms."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

"Welcome. Listen, I'd better get back. Stan'll wonder where I've gone."

"Are you two going out or something?" He laughed.

"Not as far as I know. So, can I come over tomorrow?"

"Probably. Wait, you're Jewish, right?"

"Yeah."

"How about I skip church and go over to your house?"

"What, I have to get up early on Sunday?"

"Well, Kenny'll be home all day Saturday and Sunday. Except when he's at church."

"OK, whatever. What time?"

"About ten?" Kyle sighed.

"All right. See you then."

"OK. Bye." She hung up. _What am I getting myself into?

* * *

_

© "Heat of the Moment", John Wetton and Geoff Downes, _Asia, _Geffen Records, 1982.


	13. Obvious

**God, I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I wanted to finish this before I went back to school, but that didn't work out, and then I had exams, and... at least it's really long this time.**

**To tell you the truth, I'm not really happy with it, but whatever. I can deal.**

**Also, please review. Thanks much.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. Or the Cure. Or Guitar Hero. But, now that I think about it, owning all three would be pretty bitchin'.**

Ch. 13: Obvious

"Can I go to Hannah's house tomorrow?" Katie asked, absently, as her mother slumped on the couch. Mrs. McCormick was somewhere between mildly drunk and passing out, which was usually the best time to ask her things.

"T'morrow's Sunday."

"Yeah, I know."

"If you're not goin' to church, then you're goin' to hell."

"I'll take my chances, Carol." Besides, Kenny said that hell wasn't so bad, once you got used to it. Of course, he probably had the equivalent of frequent-flyer privileges, so maybe not. Her father, who was well into the passing out stages of drunkenness, slurred something that was either "Respect your elders" or "What's for dinner?"

"Whatever," she said. "They'll feed you, right?"

"Hopefully." Mrs. McCormick nodded and took another swig at her cheap beer. Katie smiled, thanked them, and went to her room.

Hannah had been Katie's best friend in seventh grade. They'd grown apart ever since Hannah had moved to Wyoming, but she was an ideal excuse to get out of the house.

Katie didn't exactly like having two drunks for parents, but she had to admit that it came in useful occasionally. Katie left the kitchen and walked into the living room.

"Who're you going to see on a Sunday?" asked Kenny. Katie jumped.

"Ken, don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?"

"Answer the question."

"No one," said Katie.

"A guy?"

"None of your business."

"Then it is," Kenny said, with a tone of satisfaction.

"Please, let's not go through this again."

"What?"

"Your whole protective big-brother thing," Katie said. "You know, 'these boys don't treat you right, you shouldn't be hanging out with older guys', all that."

"Well, I sort of have to. I am your big brother, after all." Katie considered telling him the truth, just to get him off her back. She then decided that telling him would probably trigger more big-brother instincts than strictly necessary.

"So. How's Margie?"

"Who?" Katie laughed. "Oh, yeah, Margie. I haven't seen her yet. I probably will, though."

"And you see no hypocrisy in this at all? You forgetting about the girls you sleep with, but telling me..."

"I'm not sleeping with her," Kenny said. Katie raised an eyebrow. "We're just friends."

"Well, if it's any consolation to you, I'm not sleeping with the guy, either."

"Who is he?"

"No one you know." Katie then went into her room and closed the door. _Why would he lie about Margie? _Katie wondered. _She's no Bebe Stevens, but she's not ugly. And why would he sneak out a girl he's not having sex with? Although he's probably thinking the same thing about me. _She shook her head. _Boys.

* * *

_

Kyle woke up at nine in the morning on Sunday, but not by choice. His mother was shaking him.

"Ky-ole. Wake up. There's a girl here to see you."

"OK, OK." Kyle rolled out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and went down the stairs. Katie was sitting on the sofa, but she stood up when Kyle entered the room.

"Hey, Kyle." He mumbled something incoherent.

"Would you like something for breakfast, bubbe? I'm sure your... friend would like something, as well." Kyle could hear the contempt in his mother's voice. _Does she know about Katie's reputation? Or has she just not forgiven me for the whole Wendy thing?_

"Actually, I think we'd better get to work," Kyle said. "If that's all right with you, Katie." She nodded and smiled at Mrs. Broflovski.

"All right. Have fun... studying." It was clear from her tone of voice that she did not think they were studying at all. Kyle went back up to his room, with Katie following him.

"I don't think your mom likes me very much," Katie said, as soon as they reached his room. Kyle shrugged.

"I don't think she ever forgave me for breaking up with Wendy."

"Wait. Wendy _Testaburger_? When did you go out with her?"

"It wasn't a big deal." When he noticed her staring at him, he sighed. "She'd just broken up with Stan. I'd just broken up with Rebecca. It was a rebound thing. After about two weeks, we figured out that all we had in common was school and Stan, so we ended it. But my mom's really good friends with her mom, so she thought Wendy was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Ah." She paused. "By rebound, you mean..."

"No, actually."

"Really? I would've thought..."

"No." He cleared his throat. "So, what's our zany scheme?"

"Did you just say _zany_?"

"It's called irony."

"I'm not stupid, Kyle." She sighed. "Well, you know him. What is he going to fall for?"

"What?"

"What's he like, in short."

"He's possibly the biggest bigot since Adolf Hitler. Who he idolizes, by the way. He hates Jews, blacks, Muslims, women, gays..."

"Gays? Why's he in the pageant?"

"He just wants the money." Katie nodded.

"Same as me, then. Anyway, I was thinking. I'm not sure that we could actually force him out of it. Like, ruin his act. But maybe we could get him to... withdraw." Kyle did not get the obvious pun. He definitely wasn't Kenny, that's for sure. "Like, on his own."

"I get what you're saying. But how?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about screwing with his mind."

"Like..."

"Like... letting him find tubes of lipstick in his bag. Or maybe random gay pride shirts in his dressing room. Or something. You're the evil genius here."

"Break him down, you mean." Katie nodded. "You know there's a million ways that could fail."

"You got any better ideas, Curly?"

"No." He paused. "And don't call me that."

"You look more like Larry, anyway," Katie said. Kyle smiled. _He's actually pretty cute, in a dorky sort of way. Nothing I can't handle. _Katie had learned not to strike up relationships with people Kenny was close to.

"That makes you Moe, then." Katie nodded.

"Quite possibly." She laughed. Kyle ran his fingers through his hair.

"So. Want to get something to eat and think of a better idea?"

"Personally, I thought my idea was good. But I'll never turn down food."

"Spoken like a true McCormick." They went downstairs. Mr. Broflovski was up, reading his newspaper. He smiled as he saw the two teenagers enter the kitchen.

"Morning, Kyle. Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Katie McCormick. You know, Kenny's little sister. I'm tutoring her." Mr. Broflovski nodded, and then returned to his paper. "So," he said, digging around the cupboard, "what do you want?"

"Got anything other than waffles and Pop-tarts?" Kyle went over to the fridge.

"You like bacon?"

"Yeah, but aren't you Jewish?" Kyle shrugged.

"Yeah, but we don't really bother much with kosher. Mom gets upset when I have BLTs, but even she doesn't want to bother with the whole two-fridges, two-dishwasher stuff." Kyle pulled out a packet of bacon and a frying pan. "You can go sit in the living room, if you want. I'm sure Dad won't mind if you watch TV." Katie nodded and went into the living room.

"Hello," Mr. Broflovski said. Katie smiled.

"Hello, Mr. Broflovski."

"What are you two studying?" Katie couldn't tell from his voice whether he actually thought they were studying.

"Math." He nodded.

"So, how's it going?"

"Fine. Fine." Katie felt like she was meeting a boyfriend's dad. Which was stupid. She wasn't going out with Kyle. Also, the last time she'd met a guy's dad, he'd turned out to be a gun nut with no toleration of "loose women". Go figure. "So, how are you?"

"I'm all right." Mr. Broflovski turned the page of his newspaper. Katie simply sat there, not turning on the TV.

"Dad, you want some bacon?" Kyle called from the kitchen.

"No, thanks," Mr. Broflovski said. Then Katie saw a black-haired in his early teens walk into the living room. He looked at Katie.

"Who are you?" he asked, bluntly.

"Ike, don't talk to guests that way," Mr. Broflovski chided. Katie assumed that Kyle had a brother. Well, how was she to know?

"I'm Katie. Kenny's sister?"

"Oh. Why are you here?"

"Kyle's tutoring me in math."

"Oh. You his girlfriend?"

"Ike!"

"It's OK, Mr. Broflovski," Katie said. "No, we're just friends." Ike was obviously disappointed. If Ike was anything like her brothers, Katie figured he'd still have a lot of fun teasing Kyle about it later. Ike sat down in an arm chair and turned on the TV. He started watching some loud Japanese cartoon with men with huge muscles and even bigger hair. Not that there was much else on at ten thirty on a Sunday morning.

During the commercials, Ike got up and went into the kitchen. Katie followed him, for lack of anything else to do. Kyle was just finishing the bacon.

"Hey! You didn't make anything for me?" Ike asked, half-mockingly.

"I didn't know you were up," said Kyle. "Get some Lucky Charms or something."

"You ate it all yesterday."

"Have some of Mom's Special K, then." Katie laughed. "Oh, hey. The bacon's just about done. Do you want anything to go with it?"

"I'll just make some toast." _Hopefully I won't burn it._ The Broflovskis had a nice new toaster, while the McCormicks had something dating from around the late seventies. Katie just put a few slices of toast in at the current setting and hoped for the best.

Kyle got out some plates and put the bacon on them. Katie waited on the toast.

* * *

"Kenny! Phone's for you!" Kenny came out of his room and went into the living room. Mrs. McCormick was holding the phone.

"Thanks, Carol," Kenny said, as he took the phone. "Hello?"

"Oh, h-hi, Kenny."

"Hey, Butters."

"Listen, are you busy?"

"Not really."

"D'ya wanna come hang out my house for a coupla hours?"

"Um. OK."

"I guess?" Kenny wondered briefly what Butters actually meant.

"Great!" Butters replied, earnestly. Kenny suddenly remembered who he was talking to. Butters had never been able to imply anything in his life. "Do you need to be picked up or what?"

"Actually, I think I'll walk. I should be there in about thirty minutes."

"Are you sure? It's no problem picking you up." Kenny considered his mother opening a beer.

"It's no trouble. Later." Kenny hung up. "I'm gonna go for a bit," he said to his parents. They didn't respond, so Kenny just left the house.

* * *

"Who's this?" Katie asked, as Kyle put his iPod on the speakers. Kyle clutched his chest in fake despair. Katie laughed. "Seriously."

"This is the Cure. How can you have not heard of them?"

_"Let me take your hands, I'm shaking like milk..."_

"Never. I mostly listen to the radio." Kyle shook his head. "How do you know them?"

"My dad's a fan. I grew up on the stuff. They're still my favorite band."

_"But I don't care if you don't, and I don't feel if you don't, and I don't want if you don't, and I won't say it if you won't say it first..."_

"It's pretty cool."

"What do you listen to?" Kyle asked.

"Stuff on the radio. Like, rock and hip-hop and stuff."

"Ah." _Not all of us can afford CDs, _she thought, but she didn't say it out loud. If she did, she'd be no better than he was. She looked around his room. Bed. Desk. TV. Plastic guitar... She picked it up.

"What's this for?"

"You've never played Guitar Hero?"

"All we have is the crappy Sega." Kyle walked over to her and took the guitar.

_"You can't even see now, so you ask me the way, you wonder if it's real, because it couldn't be real..."_

"God, I haven't played this in forever." Katie raised an eyebrow. "I bought it with Stan." Kyle turned on the console. Katie went over to the iPod.

"Um... how do you turn it off?" Kyle went over to the speakers.

_"I won't play it if you won't play it first... let's go to bed... let's go to bed..." _Kyle's ears reddened as he turned off the iPod.

"There we go." Katie sighed.

"Sorry." He shrugged.

"It's OK." He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"So, you going to teach me how to play this game or what?"

* * *

"Butters, is this the only reason why you asked me over?" Kenny asked.

"Well, I figured that you were sort of an expert on the subject, so..."

"Yeah, but I draw the line at... this."

"Just pretend I'm a girl."

"That's not going to work." Kenny stood up.

"Why not?" Butters asked.

"Because, you have a penis and a distinct lack of tits."

"Oh, golly. How am I going to fake boobies?"

"I don't know. Maybe you could fill some water balloons and cover them with foundation or something." Butters nodded, thoughtfully. "I was joking. Besides, how are you going to hide your..."

"My willy? Um. I was going to wear a sarong."

"What's a sarong?"

"You know. One of those skirts girls wear with their bikinis. Then it's harder to see that I have a dinky."

"Butters, you're seventeen years old. You shouldn't still be calling it a dinky."

"I still have the boobie problem."

"No one's going to ground you if you say boobs," Kenny said. Butters shook his head.

"My parents would." Kenny raised his eyebrows.

"Really? And I thought I had problems."

"What problems?" Kenny tried to figure out if the shorter boy was joking, but his face was deadly serious.

"Nothing. Forget I said anything. Maybe you could just... I dunno. Try the water balloons. Or maybe just get one of those really ugly one-pieces that cover up most of the boobs."

"OK." Butters shifted uncomfortably. "You know, you can..."

"So," Kenny interrupted. "Want to go and get some water balloons?"

* * *

"That was pretty good," Kyle said. Katie smiled. She looked around.

"What time is it? My hand is killing me." Kyle looked at his watch.

"Damn. Three-thirty. And we still haven't thought of a better plan."

"I like my plan," said Katie.

"Katie, psychology only works on people who aren't complete nut jobs."

"Got another plan?"

"No." He laughed. "We're the worst criminals ever."

"I wouldn't call it a crime." She shrugged. "We'll just get in trouble if we get caught."

"That's the definition of a crime."

"Whatever you say. Listen, I'd better go home now." Katie took the guitar off.

"I'll call you."

"All right." She smiled.

"Want a ride home?"

"Probably better if I walk. Kenny'll recognize it. I told my mom I was going to a girlfriend's house."

"And that works?" Kyle asked.

"Kenny hasn't come and kicked your ass yet, has he?" She shook her head. "I love him and all, but he's completely paranoid. Dying as much as he does, and all."

"I thought he stopped."

"Mostly." She pulled on a jacket. "Bye, then."

"Bye." Katie walked into the living room and waved at the other Broflovskis. Kyle came down after she left.

"Kyle's got a girlfriend..." Ike teased.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"I thought she was a very nice girl," said Mr. Broflovski. Sheila didn't say anything. "Is she going to be coming over again soon?"

"I'm not sure. We might meet up at school or at her place or something." Gerald nodded and turned on the TV.


	14. Obvious, Part Two

**OK, so apparently this chapter isn't so much Chapter Fourteen as Chapter Thirteen, Part Two. Whatever.**

**And, yes, I actually did see a documentary featuring drag queen beauty pageants. Well, it was about beauty pageants, with a bit about drag queens. So, yeah.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 14: Obvious, Part Two

"There's no getting around it," Kenny said. Butters adjusted his water balloons. They looked almost completely unlike breasts. "We're going to need a girl to help us with this one."

"What? Who?" Butters didn't want to tell anyone else. To be frank, he liked that this was just between Kenny and himself.

"I don't know. Do you trust any of the girls in the pageant?"

"I dunno. I only really talk to Wendy." Butters didn't like talking to the other girls. He always felt nervous in case he messed up.

"OK. Do you want to call Wendy?" _And she owes me. _Kenny didn't think it would come down to blackmail, but if it did, he thought nothing would work better than to reveal her crush on Cartman. Honestly. Why would a smart, hot girl like Wendy pick someone... well, like _Cartman_?

"I guess. What else can we do?"

"All right." Kenny thought for a moment. "Do you know her number?"

* * *

Wendy was trying to do her homework, but she couldn't focus. At all. Whenever she tried to work on something, anything, her thoughts were immediately and involuntarily drawn back to Eric Cartman. It wasn't _fair_. She didn't want to have to keep thinking about him. Wendy was pretty sure she still hated him.

"This sucks," she said to herself, after she started her calculus homework for the fifth time in an hour. She'd had to throw away at least on page because she'd doodled all over it. _Honestly. I'm a capable person and a hard-working student. I should be able to focus on my math. _But she couldn't. As much as she hated it, no one had made her feel like this before. Literally. She'd loved Stan, but it didn't really have any passion. Passion was hard to come by when your boyfriend kept throwing up on you every other time you made out. It was like Russian roulette. And she had liked Token a lot too, but only as a friend. And Kyle... well, she and Kyle should've been a perfect couple, but reality got in the way. But Cartman...

Wendy looked down at the paper. _Mrs. Wendy Cartman. _Wendy stared at the curly signature. She honestly had no recollection of writing it down. She balled up the piece of paper and threw it away. _That _scared her, more than the fact that Cartman made her toes curl, whether it was out of anger or lust.

Ew. That was the sort of word that she never expected to be used anywhere near Cartman, much less by her to describe him.

It was an honest relief when her cell phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Kenny."

"When did I give you my cell?"

"You didn't. I got it from Butters."

"I gave Butters my cell phone number?"

"No, actually." Kenny paused. "Or yes. It sort of depends how you look at it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Listen, can you just come over to Butters's house really quick? You remember where it is."

"Yeah, I know where it is. What's this about?"

"It's not the sort of thing that you can really explain over the phone. Just come over, OK?" Wendy stared at the phone, sighed, and left the room. It wasn't as if she had anything else she could do.

* * *

"So..." Butters asked, as soon as Kenny put the phone down.

"Well, I'm pretty sure she's coming." He laughed.

"What're you laughing at?"

"You know. Coming... Never mind." Butters was possibly the most naïve transvestite he had ever met. Although Butters had said that he didn't think of himself as a girl. So he was just a naive gay guy. And Kenny didn't feel like explaining these sorts of things to him.

"So, um. H-how's your sister?"

"Oh, she went to some guy's house today. She won't tell me who he is."

"So, wait, by going over to his house, you mean..."

"She says they're not screwing. And she's generally pretty honest about that sort of thing. See, Katie thinks that I'll kick the ass of any guy she likes."

"W-will you?"

"No. Just any guy who doesn't treat her right, is all."

"Did you really beat up Clyde because he dumped her, then?" Butters asked.

"No. I beat him up because he told me Katie was hot. They never had sex, as far as I know."

"Y'know, I wish I had a brother or sister. When it's just my p-parents and me, it can be pretty rough." Butters sighed. "I just always th-thought, if I had someone to go through it with me, it might be easier."

"Butters, you don't have to put up with them. You're seventeen. They shouldn't treat you like a kid."

"But they just have my best interests at heart."

"They won't let you pick your own clothes out in the morning, do they?"

"Nuh-uh. They stopped when I was in eighth grade," Butter admitted, quietly. "They refused to go in there after the Pudding Incident." Kenny raised an eyebrow.

"The Pudding Incident? Do I even want to know what that is?" Before Butters could explain, Mrs. Stotch called from downstairs.

"Butters! There's a girl here!"

"Wendy," Kenny said. "Don't worry, you stay here. I'll get her."

"Thanks, Kenny. For everything." Kenny looked back at the boy.

"Yeah." Then he headed downstairs.

"Hello, Kenny," said Mrs. Stotch. "Wendy, would you like anything to drink?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Stotch." Wendy turned to Kenny and whispered, "What is this all about?"

"See you later," Kenny said to Mrs. Stotch. He took Wendy by the elbow and led her upstairs. He stopped in front of the bedroom door. "Now, what you're about to see may shock you. Just remember: try not to scream."

"What do you have in there?" Kenny opened the door, pulled Wendy in, then closed it immediately. Butters took the balloons out of his bikini top and smiled. Wendy looked him up and down. Her face was shocked at first, but then she just shook her head.

"I should've known. Honestly. A _ping-pong tournament_?"

"Huh. Yeah. I was kinda makin' it up as I went along."

"God. But... are you..."

"Gay, yes," Kenny said. "Transvestite, probably not."

"But why all the pretending?"

"I wanted to be in the pageant, but I didn't want my folks to know about it. This was all before Eric joined up." Wendy nodded.

"So, as much as I appreciate that you trust me enough to share this... why?" Butters blushed.

"He needs boobs for the swimsuit competition."

"Ah," said Wendy. "Wait. I think I saw something on transvestite beauty pageants a couple of years ago. What we need is some clear Scotch tape and Kleenex." Butters grabbed a box of Kleenex from his desk.

"The tape's in the kitchen." Kenny nodded and left. Wendy looked Butters up and down.

"So."

"Wendy, I'm sorry I couldn't tell..."

"You know what? It's OK." Wendy bit her lip. "But why did you tell Kenny? Do you have a crush on him or something?"

"Oh, no, nothin' like that. My parents think I'm on a soccer team. Instead of in the p-pageant. And when we went to the mall with you, my mom insisted on dropping me off at one of my teammate's houses. I got Kenny to play along."

"Ah." Wendy nodded. "OK, so that's why you didn't know how the tampon machine at the mall worked." She and Butters laughed. "God, it's so obvious now that I look back. No offense, but you're not the world's best liar. How are you fooling your parents?"

"Well, I dunno. Practice, I guess. I've made them think I was dead at least twice. Only, y'know, before this the guys made me lie. Now I'm doing something."

"Good for you. But it's really not healthy to keep hiding from this. Eventually you're going to have to tell your parents."

"Oh, no, I don't." Before Wendy could say anything, Kenny returned.

"So, what exactly are we using the tape for?" Wendy took the tape.

"Butters, take off the bikini top." Butters shrugged and complied. Wendy then pulled out a large strip of tape.

"What are you doing?" Butters asked, as Wendy pushed what little pecs he had together.

"I'm making cleavage. What do you think I'm doing?"

"That sounds painful," Kenny said. Butters nodded as Wendy taped his chest into place.

"You really need to wax your chest." Kenny laughed.

"Have you ever seen _The 40-Year-Old Virgin_?"

"I saw _Knocked Up_. One of the most sexist movies I've seen in a while." Wendy began stuffing the bikini top with Kleenex. She put it on Butters and fiddled around with it for a bit. Then Wendy stepped away to admire her handiwork.

"So?" Butters asked. Kenny looked at him.

"Not bad," he said.

"If I didn't know you were a boy, I'd think you were a girl."

"But you did think I was a gal," Butters pointed out.

"Not if you'd walked in with those water balloons, I wouldn't've. They looked nothing like breasts." Wendy shook her head. "Kenny, I would've thought that you'd have known better."

"I have an excellent knowledge of the female body, thank you."

"Were you just screwing with poor Butters, then?"

"Well, it's not as if I've had much experience with this sort of thing."

"Can I take my boobs off now?"

"Oh, yeah," said Wendy. "Just be careful when you're taking the tape off." Butters carefully removed the bikini top, trying not to drop the tissues. Then he took off the tape slowly, wincing.

"Ow, ow."

"So, that makes two of us you have dirt on," Wendy said. Kenny shrugged.

"Just born unlucky."

"Ow. What's Wendy's – OW – secret?"

"She's in love with Cartman."

"Kenny!"

"Hamburgers, Wendy. I thought you had more sense than that." Butters had figured out what Cartman was really like during about seventh grade, long after the fat kid had gotten bored with teasing him.

"I'm _not _in love with him. I don't even like him. It's just this weird sort of... _thing_. That Kenny wasn't supposed to tell anyone about."

"It's OK. I won't tell anyone," Butters said, as he pulled on a shirt. As an afterthought, he pulled off his wig.

"Thanks."

"And I won't tell anyone _else_." Wendy stared at Kenny. He shrugged. "I just figured that, since you know that he's a girl, he should know that you have a boner for Cartman." Wendy started to protest, but then gave up. What was the point?

"You'd better go wash off the make-up, Butters."

"But what if my dad sees me?" Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Kenny can go with you. But I have to go." Wendy looked at her watch. "I have homework."

"All right. Have fun," said Kenny, dryly.

"See you later!" Butters said.

"I'll call," said Wendy, as she left. Butters sat on his bed.

"She's nice." Kenny shrugged.

"A bit of a goody-goody for my tastes, but I guess."

"Why did she tell you about Eric?"

"I called her out on it. After the preliminaries." Butters nodded. "So now I'm the confidant. Great."

"Well, you're doin' a pretty good job with it."

"Thanks," Kenny said. "I guess. So. Are you going to go take the makeup off or not?"

* * *

Wendy spent most of the afternoon staring at the wall. Her thoughts occasionally turned to Butters and Kenny, but mostly she was thinking about Cartman.

_I shouldn't be spending this time thinking about him. He's honestly not worth my time. _She sighed. _Just gotta get it out of my system, is all._

_Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow, at school, I'm actually going to be nice to Cartman. _She shuddered. _How have I sunk so low?_


	15. Don't Like Mondays?

**Yes, I know. Another C/W chapter. Sorry. And also sorry I haven't updated in forever. I've been caught up with an rp, so I haven't really been in much of a mood to work on this. Plus a combination of boredom with writing in general and fan fiction in particular... I fail.**

**And I'm sorry that it ends so abruptly. I just decided that I really needed to update. So, whatever.**

**Finally, I've gotten my 50****th**** story review since my last update! Hopefully I'll get to 100 by the time the story's done (hint to all you lurkers).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 15: Don't Like Mondays?

Wendy woke up on Monday morning feeling slightly sick. She didn't like Mondays, even during the regular week. Now she knew she had to be nice to Cartman, not even knowing if it would work.

_Come on, Wendy. You can do this._ She put on her shortest skirt and black tights, so she wouldn't freeze to death. _I can get through this._ She put her long hair up with chopsticks and looked in the mirror. _I'm gonna die.

* * *

_

When Wendy got out of her car at the school parking lot, she heard a wolf whistle. She turned around to see Kenny.

"Damn," he said. "Are you hooking on the side and you just haven't told me yet?" Wendy pulled her skirt down and glared at the blond boy.

"You know damn well that I'm not a prostitute." She looked down. "Is it really that obvious?"

"For Cartman? No. He has all the subtlety of a brick to the head. Of course, don't be surprised if someone else latches on to your legs and starts humping."

"Kenny!"

"What? Oh, I have more dignity than _that_."

"Not much."

"I don't hump friends." Wendy was blinked at him, then shrugged. They were friends. She'd even told him how she felt about Cartman before she told Bebe.

"Oh, God, Bebe," Wendy moaned.

"What?"

"How am I going to tell her? She'll never let me forget it." Kenny shrugged.

"Then don't. As long as Butters and I keep our mouths shut, she never needs to know."

"She's my best friend. I have to tell her."

"Whatever." He paused. "If you actually do ensnare Cartman, what are you going to do? Go out with him?"

"I was sort of hoping that we could bang and then never talk about it again."

"It rarely works like that. You're not a virgin, are you?"

"No. That's kind of why Stan and I broke up, actually."

"Really."

"Yeah. We had sex for the first time, then I got all clingy, and then he got all clingy, then we started driving each other nuts, so we broke up. It was a bad idea. But we'd been dating for three years by that time, so." Wendy shook her head. "Why am I talking about this with you?"

"Because. I'm more experienced than you."

"Not really. You've never had a girlfriend for more than a month or so."

"But I am an expert in banging, as you put it." Wendy laughed.

"You're such a perv, Ken."

They walked into school, and Bebe ran up to them.

"Hey, Wends. Hey, Kenny."

"Hey," Kenny said.

"Hi, Bebe. What's up?" The blonde girl shrugged.

"Nothing much. Listen, I was thinking. I think we should have a party at my house after prelims on Saturday."

"I dunno. I have a lot of work to do on Sunday. Plus, church and all..."

"Oh, lighten up, Wendy," Kenny said. Bebe stared at him, as if seeing him there for the first time. "What?"

"Well..." Wendy said. "Maybe."

"OK," Bebe said. "I'm having it. And if you don't go, you're a loser."

"Thanks."

"Welcome." Kenny rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'll see you guys... girls... later, then," he said.

"Later, Ken," Wendy said. Bebe waved as he left. She then turned to her best friend, with a smile.

"Since when have you and Kenny been buddies?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Do you like him?"

"No. Well, like you said, we're friends. Just friends."

"All right." Wendy knew that Bebe didn't believe her, but at least Kenny was better than Cartman.

"You should wear skirts more often," Bebe said.

"Thanks," Wendy said. "All right, I just need to drop something off at Mrs. Huntford's office really quick. See you!" Bebe waved as Wendy walked away. She actually did need to drop something off, but Cartman's locker was on the way to the office. Wendy had always been good at multitasking.

* * *

"Hi, Eric," Wendy said, as she walked by his locker. The boy turned to see her.

"Oh. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to say hi." Cartman nodded, then turned back to his locker. "So, um, how are you?" He shrugged. "Good. So, yeah. Anything exciting today?" He shrugged again. "Yeah, me neither. Are..."

"All right. What do you want?" Suddenly Wendy was face to face with him. _Remember how to talk, Wendy. _

"N-nothing. Just talking, is all." _Why the hell does he always make me sound like an ass?_

"Well, leave me alone, then."

"God, I was just trying to be nice."

"Wendy, there's never any 'just' about you."

"What, so I can't talk to you without having an ulterior motive?"

"Exactly. Now, go away." Wendy tried to keep her cool, she really did.

"Well, screw you!" She obviously failed. "You can't even take someone being nice to you for once. I don't know why I even bother!" And with that, she stormed off. Cartman ignored the stares from his neighbors. _Crazy ho. _He paused. _Why the hell _does _she bother?_

"Looks like you pissed off your lady friend," Kenny said.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

"My locker's three away from yours, smartass. What did you say?"

"Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but Wendy's bein' all nice to me."

"What a bitch."

"You don't know her. Wendy'd never be nice to me unless she figured she could get something out of it."

"Yeah, I'm sure she's secretly plotting to hurl you into the Sun." Cartman shrugged. "But, still. Pretty girl like Wendy trying to be nice to you. Not exactly a bad position to be in."

"Is if it's that ho. Fucking hippy."

"You sure you don't like her?" Cartman ignored the question. "Ha!"

"No, I don't like her. She's a stupid tree-hugging bitch."

"Whatever," Kenny said. "She's pretty."

"You got a boner for her?" Kenny was pretty sure he hadn't imagined the jealousy in his voice.

"No way. Not my type." Luckily, Kenny had to get to class. "See you later, fatass."

* * *

"So, who're you inviting?" Wendy asked Bebe over lunch.

"Well, pretty much everyone in our grade, obviously. Then all the girls in the pageant. And Cartman."

"Ugh," Wendy said. "Do you _have _to invite the stupid juniors?"

"'Fraid so," said Heidi. "Can't be rude."

"That sucks," said Wendy. Bebe and Heidi nodded.

* * *

Wendy and Cartman, by virtue of him not giving a shit about school and her giving quite a lot of shit, had only one class together, Computer Science. Their teacher, Ms. Leftwich, was a total headcase, but no one cared because she gave A's to everyone, and Computer Science was a required class.

"Hello, students," she said, merrily.

"Hi, Ms. Leftwich," the class droned, like they were back in elementary school.

"Listen. We're going to have a PowerPoint project due next week. The good news is that you'll get to work on it in class." Everyone cheered. Projects meant goofing off with your friends instead of actually working. Especially PowerPoint projects, because they took no time at all. "The subject will be celebrating your differences. Therefore, I'll be assigning your partners!" Then the class groaned. "SHUT UP!" They did. She smiled and looked down at her clipboard.

Wendy couldn't help but to glance over at Cartman. Part of her really, really wanted for him to be her partner, and at least two-thirds reminded her that she didn't actually _like_ him. It was simply perverse attraction. Or something.

"Now, I believe we have equal numbers of boys and girls in this class. So, will the girls come up and draw a boy's name from this hat." And it was actually a top hat. A silk one, not a cheap purple plastic one. The girls all got up and drew a slip of paper. Wendy was almost afraid to unfold her slip.

_Eric Cartman._

Yay.

Shit.

* * *

"So, what the hell are we going to do?" Cartman asked.

"Work on the project. Unless you want to fail?"

"So, you do the project, and I ignore you."

"Cartman! I'm not going to do all the work while you sit there listening to... power ballads."

"Don't be stupid. I'll be doing my German homework."

"Whatever." She started playing with the background format. "So, looking forward to Saturday?"

"Seriously. What the hell do you want?"

"I don't see why I have to _want _anything. If you're too cynical to take anything at face value, well, then that's your problem."

"Whatever, ho."

"Quit calling me that." She sighed. "Look. I just don't want to fight anymore. Don't you prefer being friends with people to being enemies?"

"Why bother? If people don't like me, that's their fault. Why should I be nice to them if we don't get along?"

"Because it's the civilized thing to do," Wendy said. "Whatever. Let's just get back to work." Wendy started to type up the first slide, and Cartman pulled a plastic bag out of his backpack.

"Want an Oreo?" he asked. Wendy turned to him and looked at the bag. "They're not poisoned or anything."

"Sure." She took one out and laughed. "Quadruple Stuffed."

"Of course." She ate the Oreo, and she remembered when she'd had to work with Cartman at the debate. As much as she hated Cartman, he'd seemed briefly... human during that time. He'd ruined it all since then, of course, but the Oreo just brought it all back. "So, um. Could you do a couple of slides on your computer?" The fat boy snorted, shoveling a handful of Oreos into his mouth.

"No." Wendy sighed. _Thank God for the Cartman I know. _


	16. Best Served Cold

Ch

**I honestly have no idea what Katie was supposed to have done. So don't ask me.**

**And, also, it seems that this should last another eight to ten chapters. Hopefully you won't kill me for what I do to the plot and characters after this...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 16 – Best Served Cold

"So this is the guy's locker room," Katie said, absently, as she looked around. "Never been in here before." Kyle shrugged. He'd heard the rumors, of course, but it did seem pretty unlikely. There's no way the McCormicks could have afforded that many condoms and bottles of orange soda.

"Well, I've never been in the girl's locker room," he said.

"It's not that different. Except that the walls are pink." She took a quick look around. "Which locker is it?"

"616." Kyle had written it down so that he wouldn't forget. Katie pulled out her bag of various undergarments. Some of them she'd grown out of, some of them Kyle had paid for.

"Honestly. Why are you paying so much just to humiliate Cartman?" Katie had asked when he had given her the money for the bras. Kyle didn't really know. He claimed it was so that Cartman couldn't brag about winning the pageant, but it went deeper than that. They'd been in a power struggle since they were kids, and were now at the point that they would go to almost any lengths to see the other fail.

Well, Kyle was, anyway.

Katie was busy picking the lock. It was probably a stereotype that poor people knew how to pick locks, but Katie had learned it from Kenny. Despite their arguments, and Kenny's hypocrisy considering her dating life, the two got along pretty well.

"There we go," the girl said, as the lock popped open. She opened the door, then reeled back from the smell. "Jesus! Has he never heard of deodorant?" Kyle shrugged.

"He sweats a lot. You know. Doesn't get much exercise."

"But, still." She started stuffing the bras and panties in Cartman's locker. "Well, are you going to help me or what?"

* * *

Normally Kyle didn't care for PE. Not that he was bad at it, or anything. It just wasn't his favorite subject. And he hated having to climb the rope.

But today would _definitely _be worth it.

The guys of the first period Tuesday class went into the locker room to prepare for forty minutes of dodgeball. They were mostly seniors, with a few juniors and sophomores. Kyle took his clothes out of the locker, trying not to stare at Cartman's locker. Stan walked up to Kyle.

"Hey," Kyle said.

"Hey," said Stan, as the dark-haired boy opened his locker. Stan was not the most talkative person first thing in the morning, so the two said nothing.

Kyle kept one eye on Cartman as the fat boy entered the combination for his lock. Katie had done a good job of picking the lock without breaking it.

When Cartman opened the door, the lacy underwear came pouring out. The locker room burst out into laughter.

"What the..." Cartman shouted, his face bright red. "What the hell are these?"

"Those are bras, Cartman," said Clyde. "Not that you'd know." There was more laughter. Kyle couldn't help but grin.

"Did you..." Stan said, and Kyle shook his head. He hated lying to his best friend, but he would explain the truth later, when Cartman had no chance of overhearing them.

The boys left the locker room, with Cartman muttering under his breath. Kenny walked by the pile of bras, giving them a look. He picked one up and saw the initials "KM" written in Sharpie on the back.

"Kenny? Whatcha doing?" Butters asked. "What're you doing with those?" Kenny looked around to make sure the room was empty.

"Call me crazy, but I think these are my sister's." Butters looked at them.

"I think some of these might fit me," he said. Kenny stared at him. "Well, hamburgers, I can't just go to the mall and b-buy them. Not with my mom around."

"Does your mom go with you everywhere?"

"Well, not _everywhere._"

"Couldn't you just go to the mall as Butters and change once you get there?" Butters shrugged. "Anyway, why would my sister's bra be here? She's been seeing a guy, but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't go for Cartman."

"Well, m-maybe the guy she's seeing took her bra and stuffed it in the locker."

"But why?" Butters shrugged again.

"Let's just go to PE." Kenny took the bra and put it in his own locker.

"Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

"Did you hear about Cartman?" asked Heidi, as the girls sat together at lunch. Wendy nodded.

"It was supposed to be hilarious," said Bebe.

"They're guys," Wendy said. "They think 'hur, hur, bras' is the pinnacle of humor."

"I guess," said Heidi. "Still, you have to wonder who did it."

"Cartman has a lot of enemies," Bebe said. Wendy noticed the two looking at her.

"You think _I _did it?"

"No offense, Wends, but most of them were A-cups."

"You know, Bebe, sometimes I really wonder why I'm friends with you."

"It's no secret that you don't like Cartman," Heidi said, changing the subject.

"It wasn't me," Wendy said, flatly, and they dropped the subject.

* * *

Meanwhile, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were waiting for Cartman to get out of the lunch line. Kenny was being unusually quiet.

When Cartman came over to the table, he slammed his tray onto the table.

"This is bull crap," he said, sitting next to Kenny.

"Hello, Cartman," the blond boy said.

"What's bull crap?" asked Kyle, innocently.

"This damn bra thing," Cartman said. "Everyone's been giving me shit about it."

"Oh, that's too bad," said Kyle sarcastically. Cartman glared at him, but said nothing.

"It could've been worse," Stan said. "It could've been a locker full of guys' underwear." Kyle made a mental note, but then realized that, if he used it, Cartman would know it was him.

Wow. Maybe Katie had a point about him taking this way too seriously.

* * *

As soon as Cartman got up and left, Wendy took his seat.

"Wendy!" Stan and Kyle said, in unison.

"Hi, Wendy," said Kenny, casually.

"Hello, guys. Sorry. My friends are pissing me off." Kenny shrugged. Stan and Kyle relaxed slightly, but were still visibly awkward. They hadn't really talked to Wendy since the whole break-up thing. Some people could be friends with their exes. Neither Stan nor Kyle was that sort of person. Kenny had often joked that that was the only reason they weren't going out.

"So, is it true about Cartman? At PE?" Wendy asked, casually. The boys nodded.

"It was pretty funny," Stan said.

"Eh. It was funny at the time, but now that everyone's making a huge deal of it, it's pretty lame," Kenny said.

"Any idea who did it?"

"Wendy, are you just over here so that you can tell your friends whatever we tell you?" Kyle asked. She squirmed in her seat.

"To be fair, my friends _are _pissing me off. But, yeah, they asked if I could ask you."

"It must be cool to be as smart as you, Kyle," Stan said. The redhead shrugged.

"It gets kinda boring sometimes."

"So?" Wendy asked.

"We don't know who did it," Kenny said, abruptly. He wasn't going to implicate his own sister until he talked to her himself.

"Yeah," Kyle said, a little too quickly. Wendy raised an eyebrow.

"All right," she said, he voice filled with skepticism. "I guess I'll see you guys later, then."

"Bye," the boys said.

Wendy headed towards the bathroom. Normally, girls didn't go to the bathrooms by themselves, but Wendy could deal.

And who should she run into but Eric Cartman.

"Watch it, ho," he said.

"Hello, Eric," she said, primly.

"That's it? No accusations of misogyny, no shouting, nothing?"

"Yeah," the girl replied. "I told you. I don't want to argue anymore."

"Oh," he said, clearly caught off-guard. "Don't expect me to play along, hippy."

"I didn't think you would." She smiled. "You going to Bebe's party on Saturday?"

"I guess so."

"Cool. I'll see you there. Bye."

"Bye," he said, as she walked away. He went to his locker and opened the door.

"_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen. Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambor..._" Cartman tore out the tape player. Someone had rigged it to go off when he opened his locker. The kids around him, of which there were not a few, were snickering. Cartman kicked his locker, leaving a huge dent in the door.

"Having fun?" Kenny asked, as he walked up to his fat friend.

"Fuck off," Cartman said.

"I'm guessing that liking ABBA's not the only thing that's wrong with you."

"Fuck off. And I do _not _like ABBA. Some asshole rigged my locker."

"Ah." There was a long pause.

"She has to be up to something," said Cartman, half to himself. "She's being way too nice."

"Who? Wendy?"

"Yeah. I called her a ho, and she didn't do anything about it. Normally she screams her head off, but today she just said 'hi'."

"Oh."

"She says she doesn't want to fight anymore, but I know she's up to something."

"Well," said Kenny, "what if she isn't?"

"What?"

"Maybe she genuinely wants to be friends? Or, you know." He figured Wendy would forgive him for spilling the beans if it gave Cartman a clue.

"You know what?"

"You know!" He sighed. "Think about it. She's hated you for... I dunno. Ten years. And all of a sudden she's nice to you."

"No way," he said. "She... It's not."

"Well, it could be," Kenny said. "Do you like her?"

"Hell no. It's Wendy Testaburger, for fuck's sake."

"Whatever."

* * *

As soon as Katie got home, she snagged the phone and called Kyle's cell.

"Hello?" Kyle asked.

"Hey. It's me."

"Oh, hi."

"So, did it work?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Great! And the ABBA thing?"

"Yeah," Kyle replied.

"That was a pretty cool idea, I must admit. You're not totally useless."

"I guess so."

"What're you doing?"

"Walking home with Kenny," Kyle replied.

"Oh. Well, bye."

"Bye." Kyle hung up. "That was my mom," he said to Kenny.

"Right." Kenny said. "So, do you know who did the locker thing? Things?"

"No clue."

"Not a lot of people know how to pick a lock without breaking it," Kenny said.

"Nope. Should narrow it down." Kenny sighed.

"If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I had a look at the bras, and... Quit looking at me like that."

"I'm sorry. What's the opposite of being surprised?" Kyle asked.

"Shut up. Anyway, one of them had the initial KM on it. Like Katie McCormick."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So I figure either she's in on it, or whoever's in on it had access to her bra." Kyle considered making a cheap joke at Katie's expense, but decided against it. He actually kind of liked her, now.

"Well, I'm sure there's lot of other people with the initials KM. Like... you. It's probably not what you think it is."

"And I taught Katie how to pick locks when we were kids."

"Really?" Kyle said. "I dunno, man. You should just talk to her."

"Yeah, I guess," Kenny said. They finally reached the McCormick's house. "Later."

"Later." As soon as Kenny went inside, he called the house phone.

"Hello?" Katie said.

"Katie."

"Yeah."

"Deny everything." He then hung up. Katie stared at the phone, then shoved it under her comforter as Kenny knocked on her door.

"Come in!" Kenny opened the door and sat on her bed. "What's up?" she asked.

"Did you hear about my friend Eric?"

"Um. The bra thing or the music thing?"

"Well, specifically the bra thing." She nodded. "Well, the lock was broken into, but it wasn't broken. Remember how I showed you how to do that?"

"N-no," Katie said, remembering Kyle's advice.

"We used to break the lock so Kevin would let me in his room? Never mind. I definitely showed you."

"I don't remember it."

"Whatever. I definitely showed you." He leaned over and grabbed his backpack. "I also found this," he said, holding out the bra. _Shit. _Katie thought that she'd thrown out all the ones that had been written in. Apparently not.

"I haven't seen this bra in forever!" Katie said, thinking quickly. "Where did you... Oh."

"Yeah. Please explain to me why one of your bras was there?"

"This is a really old one. From back when I was an A cup." She bit her lip. "I must've left it at someone's house or something. Maybe Clyde's."

"When did you sleep with Clyde?" Oops. That was another thing that she wasn't supposed to tell Kenny. She really needed to make a list of these things.

"I'm just saying, maybe." He glared at her. Katie rolled her eyes. "Oh, big brother, please forgive me. Anyway, I didn't have anything to do with it. I don't even remember how to do the lock thing. And why would I play practical jokes on Eric Cartman?"

"I dunno. The pageant?"

"Please. If I wanted to get rid of a serious competitor, I'd go for someone like Bebe Stevens." She paused. "Is this over? Because I have to call Emily for the Chemistry homework."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Kenny laughed. "Honestly. Clyde Donovan?"

"I was in eighth grade. I was a lot dumber then. I'd tell you not to go and kick his ass, but he really was a jerk."

"All right. I will kick his ass."

"Bye," she said. He waved as he shut her door. Katie dialed Kyle's cell.

"Hey. Are you alone?"

"Yeah," Kyle said. "So, what happened?"

"Well, Kenny came in and asked me about the bras."

"Yeah. He explained it to me," said Kyle. "And?"

"And I told him that I hadn't seen it since eighth grade. That I'd left it at Cly... a guy's house."

"Oh." Kyle paused. "Wait, in eighth grade?"

"I was stupid. He was all Mr. Big-Shot sophomore. Don't think I don't regret it."

"But still. You were, what, thirteen?"

"Fourteen." She reconsidered. "Nearly. Anyway, there's nothing I can do about it now. And I don't appreciate you judging me."

"I'm not. I swear I'm not. Sorry."

"It's all right. I guess I deserve it. Now Kenny's going to go off and beat Clyde to a pulp..."

"It was _Clyde_?"

"I was thirteen! Now you're judging me."

"Well, duh. The guy's a walking chlamydia factory."

"Anyway, so he doesn't suspect you." She paused. "And I've been tested."

"Well, that's the important thing." Katie wasn't sure what he was referring to, and if he was being sarcastic. "I'll see you later. OK?"

"OK. Bye." He hung up. _God, he's a jerk._


	17. Party at Bebe's

Ch

**Yes, Bebe has an older brother. I made him up. **

**Also, you didn't miss the last chapter. I decided to skip the prelims since, frankly, they were boring. **

**Ugh, I HATE the Bunny sections. I'm all right with everything else. So, just keep that in mind.**

**And please review! I'd like to know how I'm doing. Thanks in advance.**

**And also kudos to kyleisgod, for some dialogue help.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. Really.**

Ch. 17: Party at Bebe's

"Semifinals sucked," Wendy said, as she sat in the back of Bebe's car.

"You did fine," she replied, flippantly.

"I know I did fine. They still sucked. I don't exactly like prancing around in a bikini."

"Yup," Heidi said. "Oh, well. Now we get to party." Wendy sighed. She was really too tired to dance and have fun. And she was never much of a party person to being with. She didn't mind the occasional beer, but she didn't like getting drunk very much. Or watching other people get drunk, for that matter. Bebe always insisted it wasn't just about drinking, but it always turned out that way.

"Here we are," Bebe said. Some people had already arrived, but couldn't get in. Bebe parked her car and the girls got out. Butters, still dressed as Margie, waved at Wendy. She waved back. Bebe opened the door and the kids went in. The music was already on, and there was a table with refreshments. And a keg.

"My brother is a saint," Bebe said. Heidi scoffed.

"If he starts hitting on me again, I swear..."

"Relax. I think he's gone now. You guys want a beer?" Wendy shook her head and Heidi shrugged. Bebe went off.

"Well, she won't be back for at least thirty minutes," Wendy said. Heidi giggled.

* * *

"This is going to be hella lame," Cartman said.

"Scoot over, fatass," Kenny said. He, Cartman, and Katie were squeezed in the back of Kyle's car. Stan sat up front.

"I dunno," Stan said. "Might be fun." Cartman stuck his hands in his pockets, and then felt a plastic tube. He pulled it out to reveal a lipstick.

"What the fuck?" he shouted.

Katie and Kyle laughed the hardest.

"Here we are," Kyle said. "Let's get it over with."

* * *

"Listen," said Heidi to Wendy, "I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

"OK," said Wendy. "Be back soon."

Heidi waved as she left. Wendy sat down on the sofa.

"Ay, ho. Scoot over." Wendy looked up to see Cartman with two beers. She raised an eyebrow and scooted. He sat down, and she could hear the sofa moan. He handed her a beer.

"What's this?"

"It's a beer."

"I know _that_. But why..."

"Bebe told me to give it to you. She's talking with someone."

"I told her not to get me one," Wendy said, but took a sip anyway. "Tastes kinda salty."

"Nothing wrong with mine," Cartman said. She shrugged.

Cartman hadn't been able to stop thinking about what Kenny had said. Not that he liked Wendy. She was still as much of a self-centered bitch as she had always been. But it _would _explain a lot.

So he'd spiked her drink.

* * *

"I kind of want to go home," Kyle said to Kenny.

"Loser."

"Am not." Kyle reconsidered. "OK, maybe a little. But, still."

"You're such a pansy. You're either worried about homework or that your mom won't like you being out so late."

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Whatever. Want another beer?"

"Nah. I'm driving, remember? One beer max."

"All right. Have fun sitting here by yourself."

"I'm sure I will." Kenny wasn't exactly drunk, but he was certainly a lot more honest than he was usually.

"Hiya, Kyle." It was Katie. She leaned on the table behind him.

"Hi, Katie. We shouldn't be talking." She shrugged. "How many beers have you had?"

"One. And then one of those little Smirnoff Ice things. Then another beer."

"You should probably stop."

"Quit being such a pussy."

"An awful lot of people seem to be saying that to me."

"Maybe you should listen to 'em." She sighed. "This is boring. No one I know's here. Well, except for you and Kenny."

"Yeah. And it'll just be Kenny if he sees us talking together."

"Wanna get a room?"

"Don't get any ideas." She scoffed.

"Please. Let me just get one more beer."

* * *

"Hiya, Kenny!" Butters said. Kenny looked around. Katie was nowhere in sight. Last thing he needed was to add fuel to the fire.

"Hey. How're you?"

"I'm OK."

"You ever been to one of Bebe's parties?"

"N-no. My parents never let me." Kenny burst out laughing. "What?"

"It's just funny, that's all. I mean, they say that when good kids go bad, they really go bad."

"What?"

"Well, not _bad_. But, you know. Here you are, in a skirt. And all that."

"Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you been drinkin'?" Kenny shrugged.

"Nothing major. Listen, we'd probably better not talk in public."

"OK." Before Kenny could stop Butters, he walked away, and Kenny had to follow him. He saw Katie talking to Kyle. _Probably nothing. _Butters opened the door to the bedroom, and Kenny cautiously entered.

"You know what people usually use these rooms for, right?" Kenny asked Butters. He nodded.

"Making babies, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, if people think I'm having relations with you, isn't that better for my disguise?"

"That's gross. Even for me." Butters blinked, and Kenny dropped it. "But what about if people find out that you're... you know. A guy."

"Why should they?" Butters asked, as he sat down on the bed. It looked like Bebe's parent's room. Kenny sat down next to him.

"Well, you can't stay closeted forever, you know."

"I know. I was just sorta hopin' that it'd be after I move out. My dad... well, he wouldn't be too happy if he found out I was gay. He's gay. Or bi. I never really figured that out."

"Really?"

"You were dead when the Bennigan's thing happened, weren't ya?"

"What Bennigan's thing?"

"Oh, uh. It was pretty w-weird. My dad was, uh, with another guy, and then my mom tried to kill me."

"Wow." Kenny laughed, without humor. "And I thought my family had problems."

"Y-yeah. You know, your mom should probably change the answering machine."

"Maybe. I'll tell her sometime." Kenny had told her several times, but she'd never gotten around to it. Butters nodded.

"Good." He smiled at Kenny, like nothing had happened. "I just wanna thank you again."

"It's really no problem. What was I going to do, tell everyone your secret?"

"Some people would. Not a lot of people like me that much."

"Sure, people like you. Wendy does. I do."

"I like you, too, Kenny." It was a little weird hearing that from a guy dressed as a girl, Kenny had to admit. He wasn't a homophobe, or anything, but...

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

"And then he went soaring through the air, and..." Katie laughed. "Apparently Stuart got arrested, but then Kenny came back to life, so they had to let him go."

"Weird," Kyle said. "Is it genetic, do you think?" Katie shrugged.

"Wouldn't know. I've never died. Stuart says that he died a couple of times when he was a kid, but he only says it when he's shitfaced." She slowly stopped laughing.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked. She shook her head, and put her beer on the bedside table.

"I'd better not have any more. Kenny hates it when I drink. Thinks that I'll end up like Mom and Dad."

"Well..." Kyle said.

"Don't even start, Mr. Designated Driver."

"It's not as if I don't drink. Well, I don't _not _drink."

"What?" asked Katie, looking confused.

"Nothing. I'm not opposed to drinking, but problems like that can be genetic."

"I'm sick of everyone thinking I'm the way I am because of Carol and Stuart." Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Quit doing that. Stupid goodie-goodie."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Whatever." Katie thought. "Do you think girls go for guys who're like their dads?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't have that much experience with guys. I mean, girls."

"Freudian slip. Anyway, if we do – you know, go for guys like our dads – then I'm screwed."

"I'm sure it's not true. I mean, that'd be weird. Plus, it'd mean that guys go for girls like their moms. Which means that I'd end up with a red-haired argumentative control freak."

"I have red hair, and we've done nothing but fight since we met," she said. "Two out of three ain't bad." Kyle blushed.

"That's not what I meant. And, you know, it's more blonde."

"Keep telling yourself that." Katie stood up, but wobbled. "Whoa."

"Booze goes to your head that quickly?" Kyle asked, rising as well.

"Not usually." And, all of a sudden, they were facing each other. "You're nothing like my dad."

"Y-yeah?"

And she kissed him.

* * *

Cartman was having a lot less fun than he liked.

The Mickey Finn was supposed to allow Cartman to figure out if Wendy liked him or not. Instead, he'd been stuck with Wendy all night. A Wendy who kept giggling, tripping over things, and trying to dance.

"Man, I'm fallin' over a lot tonight," Wendy said, as she collapsed on the floor. Cartman rolled his eyes and helped her up.

"You'd probably better sit down." She leaned on him as he walked her to the bathroom. He put the lid down and sat Wendy on the toilet. She looked up at him.

"Hi."

"What?"

"Why're you being nice to me?" Cartman shrugged.

"I'll stop." She shook her head.

"No, I like it." She half-smiled. Cartman rolled his eyes again.

"Listen, Kenny says you like me." She nodded. "Um. OK, then." Wendy stood up, but then lost her balance. Cartman grabbed her before she could hit the floor, and she righted herself.

"Are you going to do that all fucking night?" She shrugged again. "Anyway. So this is why you're being so damn nice to me?" Wendy nodded. "Knew it."

"Do you like me?" She asked.

"I... Not particularly."

"Why not?"

"You're a self-obsessed bitchy ho, that's why."

"Well, you're a sadistic asshole with no soul and no empathy," Wendy said, matter-of-factly. "And I still like you." Cartman shook his head.

"Dumb bitch." She smiled and held onto Cartman. She looked into his eyes. Cartman tried to look away, but, before he knew it, her mouth was on his.

There wasn't any art or depth to the kiss. She just pressed her lips against his. Cartman pushed her away, and she stumbled. _Why the hell does that dumb ho like me?_

"So, you really don't like me," Wendy said, as she sat down on the toilet lid.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know... that maybe you'd have harbored a crush on me for years and then... I dunno. But that would've been weird too, since... I don't like you, you know."

"You just said you did."

"I know I did, but... not like I wanna be your girlfriend. It's like when we were working together on that debate thing, you know? One kiss to get rid of the tension. Only this time... well, you know." Cartman knew. And now he had a decision to make.

He could do the right thing, refuse her, and get her somewhere where she could lie down without being disturbed. But who was that right_ for_? Wendy wanted it, and she was a girl, after all. Even if she was a bitchy ho. She might get mad in the morning, but he could always say he'd been drunk. And would having her go back to hating him be a bad thing?

And Eric Cartman had sort of made it a policy never to do the right thing.

"Well, I think we can work with that." He pulled her off of the seat and kissed her.

"Not here." Wendy whispered. "No one else knows. Your house?"

"OK."

* * *

Kyle couldn't stop thinking about it.

Katie was asleep. Not drunk passed-out, but just asleep. Kyle knew it wasn't the wisest of ideas to stay in the same room as Kenny's unconscious sister, but he didn't think it'd be smart to just leave her, either.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Kyle put a coat over Katie and got the door. It was Cartman.

"Listen, I need the keys."

"What?"

"Kahl. Gimme the goddamn keys."

"I have to drive Stan and Kenny home!"

"Give me the keys, or I'll tell your bitchy mother that I found you in a room with some passed out girl." Cartman looked in the door. "Is that Kenny's sister?"

"All right, all right." Kyle fished the keys out of his pocket. "I'll be at your house to pick it up at noon. If anything happens to it, you're a dead man."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Cartman slammed the door. Katie rolled over.

"Why do I have a coat on me?" she asked. Kyle shrugged. She pushed it off.

"Who was that? Eric?"

"Yeah." Katie sat up and smiled wanly.

"So..."

"So we're all going to have to find another way to get home."

"That's not what I meant."

"Ask me about it tomorrow. I might have figured it out by then," Kyle said. Katie started to say something, but gave up.

"I'll go find Kenny."

* * *

Kenny had left the party already. Apparently Butters had a curfew. Kenny said that the point of sneaking out was to stay out past his curfew, but then Butters pointed out that he'd be grounded for even longer if he was sneaking out past his curfew, so Kenny gave up.

Butters didn't have his full license yet, despite being nearly eighteen years old. So Kenny, who did have a driver's license, had to drive Butters home.

_Damn Butters and his parents, _Kenny thought, as Butters wiped his makeup off. They had pulled over at a gas station to allow Butters to change into his boy clothes before he reached home, just in case.

"Th-thanks again for driving me home."

"No problem," Kenny said. He probably shouldn't have been driving: he was tipsy at the very least. But whatever. It wasn't far until Butters's house, and there were no cars on the road.

Kenny pulled up to Butters's driveway. His parents weren't home.

"Need help shimmying up the drainpipe?"

"Oh, gosh, no. I'll just go in through the ground floor window. How're you gonna get back to the party?"

"I'll just call and tell Katie that I'm walking home."

"You could stay here, if you want. I'll explain it all to Mom and Dad."

"Nah, they'll probably just ground you for having a friend over without their permission or something dumb like that. So, you've never tried to break their rules?"

"Not on purpose."

"Damn." The smaller boy shrugged and got out of the car. Kenny got out, too. "So, see you tomorrow."

"See ya." Butters smiled and waved as Kenny walked away. Kenny zipped up his orange parka and put his hood over his head, like he'd always done when he was a kid.

And then he slipped on a puddle and died. Damn parka.


	18. Black Out, Fall Out

**This is one of those chapters where it takes you thirty minutes to write most of it, and three months to finish it off. This chapter scares me to death, since it's really different from what I had planned.**

**As always, reviews appreciated. Flames, not so much.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 18 – Black Out, Fall Out

_Jesus Christ._

Wendy Testaburger had the biggest headache of her life.

She cursed the sunlight streaming in the room. She put a pillow over her head.

It smelled of cologne.

She opened one eye and lifted the pillow slightly. It wasn't her pillow – her pillow was white. This was blue.

Wendy, with an enormous force of will, sat up and looked around. This definitely wasn't her room. Her room was always tidy, whereas this room had clothes everywhere. Guy clothes, like boxers, and sports shirts, and... was that _her _bra on the floor?

Wait, why was she naked in a guy's room? Had she had sex? Did they use protection? And just whose room was it?

"You finally got up." Wendy covered herself with the comforter as soon as she heard Eric enter the room.

"Is this your room?" she said, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper. Her head hurt so much. He handed her a mug. Wendy inspected it carefully.

"It's not poisoned or anything, ho. And, yes, this is my room." Wendy took a sip, and instantly felt about five times better.

And then she reverted to her usual mood of pissed off.

"What the hell? Did we..."

"Yeah."

"Oh, God. But what happened?"

"We fucked."

"I know that!" she shouted, but regretted it. Goddamn, her head hurt. She took another sip of tea. "But... was I drunk?"

"Yeah. And then you said, 'I want you, Eric,' and then we came back here. And..."

"I get the picture. But I don't drink." He shrugged.

"I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"So you took advantage of a drunk girl? Did you remember to use a condom?"

"Yes, I used a condom. God, last thing I'd want is for you to get knocked up. Then I might have to live with you. And I was drunk, too."

"Oh, that makes _everything _better, then."

"You weren't complaining last night."

"I was drunk! And besides, I don't even remember it."

"But you did want me." He didn't ask her if she'd wanted him; he stated it.

"Well, yeah. But you weren't supposed to know that. Ever."

"Eh, Kenny told me."

"Kenny! I am going to kill that little bastard. All right, maybe killing him's not the worst threat for him, but I'll make it painful."

"What does it matter? We had sex. You said that's all you wanted."

"Well, it's no good if I don't even remember it. How was it?" He shrugged.

"You only orgasmed a couple of times."

"Bullshit. No way I missed my first orgasm." She stared at Cartman, whose expression didn't change. "Did I?"

"That's for me to know and for you to never remember."

"You bastard," she said. "Ugh, this wasn't how this was supposed to turn out at all."

"Oh?"

"I was supposed to seduce you or something, not tell you that I wanted you when I was drunk."

"Eh. It ended up the same."

"I just can't believe that I missed it." The two looked at each other.

"You know, we could always..."

"Took the words out of my mouth," said Wendy.

* * *

Kyle found himself at the McCormick's house again. Kenny was over at Token's house, so Katie decided that it would be the perfect time to talk.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He still wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. They were still working together, so adding romantic complications could only hurt that. Plus the fact that Kenny would kill him, of course. But...

Katie opened the door.

"Hey, Kyle," she said. "Come in." He nodded.

"Where are your parents?"

"God knows," she said, closing the door behind them. "So..."

"Um. Any progress on the Cartman thing?"

"No, but I have a friend who can put a bunch of pink triangles on his locker before school Monday morning."

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry. She's very discreet." That wasn't quite what Katie had meant by her "so".

"That's good," Kyle said. And then a long awkward pause. "Um. About last night."

"I didn't mean it," she said, quickly. "Well, I mean, I don't know."

"Yeah. I just don't want it to be..."

"Awkward. I know." Really, another awkward silence was inevitable. So Kyle decided to say something stupid.

"What do you mean, 'you didn't mean it'?"

"What I said. I didn't mean it. I'd been drinking," Katie said, with a shrug.

"Not that much. I mean, you remember it."

"So? I don't like you, Kyle. Honest."

"That's a bit of a left-handed compliment."

"What? What do you want me to say? It was nothing." She sighed. "Did you want me to mean it?"

"No!"

"Then why is it such a big deal?"

"I don't..."

The door opened.

"Kyle?" Kenny said. "What're you doing here?"

"N-nothing," Kyle said. "I just needed to, um..."

Kenny's eyes darted between his friend and his little sister.

"Listen, Kenny. It's not what it looks like," said Katie.

"What does it look like, then?" Kenny said, starting to get angry. Neither Kyle nor Katie replied. "So, this is the guy, huh?"

"What?" Kyle said.

"No. God, it's not like that. It's just..."

"Jesus Christ," Kenny interrupted. "I mean, _Kyle_?"

"Hey!"

"Kyle, you're just making this worse," Katie muttered.

"What the hell are you doing with my sister?" Kenny said.

"I..." Kyle tried to think of a decent explanation. "Look, she's just doing a job for me, OK?" Kenny's eyes narrowed in rage. "Not like that!"

"Kyle, because you're my friend, you get a ten second head start."

"But..."

"One." And Kyle left.

"Kenny," Katie said. "It's not like that. Honest. We're not having sex."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's about the pageant. I'm helping him sabotage Cartman."

"Really?"

"He's paying me, so I figured that I could always use the money."

"How much?"

"Um. So far, about five hundred bucks."

"Kyle wouldn't spend that much money just to ruin Cartman, would he?"

"I wouldn't know," Katie said. "He's _your _friend. So, you're not going to go and kick his ass?"

"Well, maybe. Why didn't he just say?"

"Search me. Why are you back so early, anyway?"

"Tweek dropped one of the amps on his foot, so Token took him to the hospital and we called it a day."

"OK. Well, I have homework. Later."

"Later." Katie went into her room as Kenny sat on the sofa. Katie closed the door and flopped onto her bed. She rarely did that, fearing that it might break, but the action was justified today.

Did Kyle like her? He wouldn't have made such a fuss over the kiss if he hadn't, would he?

_It doesn't matter. One more week and I never have to talk to him again, if I don't want to. _

Whether she wanted to or not was the question.

Well, she liked him as a friend, if nothing more. Kyle was actually a pretty nice guy. And there was the kiss...

_I'll worry about it later, _she decided.

* * *

"You need to cut your damn nails," said Cartman, putting his shirt and boxers on. "My back's all messed up now."

"Not my fault," Wendy said, as she pulled her jeans on. "Where are my socks?" She picked up Cartman's jeans to retrieve the socks, and a small glass bottle fell out of the pocket. Cartman got up, but Wendy picked it up before he could reach it. "Cartman?"

"Yes?"

"This is labeled 'Xyrem'," Wendy stated, calmly.

"No, it's not."

"That's a date rape drug."

"No, it's not." Wendy hurled the bottle at his head, and he barely ducked in time.

"You BASTARD!" she shrieked. "What the hell is WRONG with you?"

"Calm down, ho!" Wendy picked up his lamp and threw it across the room. Cartman hid behind his bed. "Listen! I just wanted to know if you liked me. I wasn't planning on us fucking."

"Oh, so that's makes it _completely _all right. I forgive you now," Wendy said, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "So, you knew I liked you, so you gave me a spiked drink, solely because you wanted _information_?"

"Yeah!"

"Bullshit! God, I hate you so much. I can't believe I thought..." Cartman looked over the bed. Was she _crying_? God, chicks were weird. When Wendy saw him, she threw one of his shoes at him, and he ducked back again. Wendy pulled on her socks and shoes. "Consider yourself lucky I don't castrate you," Wendy said, but her voice was more sad than angry.

"Wendy?"

"Just leave me alone." And she got up and left.

"Psycho bitch," Cartman said, shaking his head.

Kyle knocked on Stan's door. He'd had to run from Kenny's house, since he still hadn't reclaimed his car from Cartman's house.

Stan opened the door. He looked like he had just gotten up.

"Kyle, what're you doing here?"

"Hiding," Kyle said, pushing his way into Stan's living room. "Do you have any Red Bull?"

"Probably. What are you hiding from?"

"Kenny." Kyle went into the kitchen. Stan followed him.

"Why? What happened?"

"He sort of caught me and Katie."

"Doing what?"

"Arguing."

"Oh. What were you guys arguing about?" Kyle downed a Red Bull. "Dude, slow down. I'm _not _driving you to the hospital."

"What a great friend you are." Kyle sighed. "She kissed me last night. She says it doesn't mean anything."

"What's the problem?"

"Well... I think I like her."

"Oh. Sucks, dude."

"Yeah."

"So, you're hiding from Kenny?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"And you don't think he won't figure out where you are in about five minutes?"

"Eh. If he comes here, I'll just hide in the clubhouse."

"Fair enough," Stan said, rummaging through the pantry. "Want some Cheesy Poofs?"

* * *

Wendy didn't go straight home after the incident with Cartman. She didn't feel like explaining herself to her mom in her current state.

Nor did she go to Bebe's, although that's probably what she would've done a month ago. But a few weeks ago she had no idea that she still liked Eric Cartman, so that goes to show what sort of a month she'd had.

So Wendy Testaburger found herself knocking on Kenny's door.

"Hey, Wendy," Kenny said, as he opened the door. "You look like crap." Wendy didn't laugh.

"I had sex with Cartman last night."

"Yeah?"

"He's a selfish bastard who doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything else but his own stupid self."

"I think you'd better come in."

Wendy sat down on the McCormick's shabby couch. Kenny sat next to her and prayed his parents wouldn't be home any time soon. He had a feeling that this would take a while.

"So," Kenny said. "You and Cartman..."

"Yeah." She sighed. "He spiked my beer at the party last night. He said that you told him that I liked him."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. I just thought that..."

"It's not a big deal. And then he took me back to his place."

And now Kenny had _that _image stuck in his head. Great. The thought of Cartman having sex would scar him for life.

_It's probably worse for her, _Kenny thought. _I mean, she's not even mad at me for spilling the beans. Something really bad must've happened._

"But isn't that what you wanted?" he asked.

"I thought it was what I wanted. But... God, I'm so stupid. I thought... I don't even know what I thought."

"What, you thought that he'd turn out to be a nice guy, underneath it all?"

"I guess," Wendy said. "Like I said, stupid."

"No. Wendy... what he does, what he is... After a certain point, you can feel sorry for Cartman. Hell, you can even admire him. But he's not a nice person."

"I thought you were his friend."

"Well, I am. Sort of. It's... weird. Part of it's because we don't really have any other friends, part of it's pity, and part of it's habit."

"Makes sense," Wendy said, and then shrugged. "Kind of."

"I can still kick his ass, if you want me to," he said. Wendy laughed.

"It's fine. I can kick his ass fine by myself." She smiled at Kenny. It wasn't quite genuine – Kenny got the feeling that she was trying not to cry in front of him. But she still looked great.

_What does a girl like Wendy see in a guy like Cartman? _True, they both had a vicious streak, and there had been that thing back in elementary school, but otherwise they didn't seem to have much in common. Then again, she didn't have much in common with Stan. Or with Kenny, for that matter.

Wendy looked down at her lap, biting her lip. Kenny, not quite sure what to do, placed his hand on her shoulder. Instead of shrugging it off, like he'd expected, Wendy placed her hand on his. Kenny felt his heart speed up.

_Oh, shit._

He recognized this. Ten years ago, he had felt this. The sudden realization that the only thing he wanted was right in front of him. Of course, that girl had been Kelly. This was a far more unattainable goal.

Wendy Testaburger.

He liked Wendy.

_You don't want to pound Cartman's face in for her. Well, not just for her. You want to punch him because he was with her._

"God, why am I rambling on to you?" she said, as she pulled away slightly. Kenny took his hand off of her shoulder, not quite sure what to say. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Had he really not noticed before? Granted, she wasn't exactly his type – normally Kenny went for the sort of girl that had half Wendy's brain and twice the cup size. But now he felt like he was about to choke just sitting next to her. He felt like someone had punched him in the chest, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Well, I'd better go." Wendy got up.

"D-don't you want to stay for a little while?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I have homework."

"Fuck homework," Kenny said, trying to sound nonchalant. Wendy smiled, and Kenny grinned back.

"If only." Wendy started to head to the door. Kenny stood up, as well. "Bye. See you tomorrow."

"See you, Wendy." As soon as she was gone, Kenny sat back down on the couch.

_Well, this is fucking brilliant. You can't find a girl who isn't completely hung up on Cartman?_

_Maybe this isn't as bad as you think it is. _Kenny took a deep breath. _You like Wendy. She's your friend. And she's also hot. But that doesn't mean that you like her like that. Just because she's funny, smart, and hot doesn't mean..._

"Fuck." Kenny had never been in this situation before. He'd never gone from being friends with someone to wanting to get in their pants. And he wasn't just thinking with his dick, either. That had a lot to do with it, of course, but it wasn't all that was on his mind.

He needed to go do something else. He'd figure it all out later.

He didn't notice his sister leaving her room.

"Why's Wendy coming over here?" Katie asked.

"Shut up."

"Won't Margie be upset?"

"I said shut up!" Kenny stood up and went to his room. Katie stood by the couch.

She had an idea.


	19. Hell Week

**Wow, I'm glad you guys liked the last chapter so much, considering that I was so worried about it. Honestly, it fills up a lot of plot holes. I think I should have this story done soon-ish. This is the fourth-to-last chapter.**

**Initially this chapter was set at school, but I decided to stretch out the action for a week and set it at rehearsal. And "hell week", for those of you who haven't been in a play, is the week before opening night. How aptly it earns its name.**

**I have to go back to school on Monday, which is why I decided to pump this out. It's not that funny, but next chapter (which is the pageant) should more than make up for it.**

**Anyway, reviews loved, and enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 19: Hell Week

"I am so sick of rehearsal," Bebe mentioned, as she drove Wendy home on Monday.

"Yeah," Wendy said. As if school hadn't been hard enough, they had rehearsal every day on the week before the pageant finale. It was a lot harder now that there were only twenty contestants. The final ten would be revealed at the beginning of the finales, so there was a fifty percent chance that the whole week would be a waste of time.

_Why did I even sign up for this stupid pageant? _Wendy moaned. _To spite Cartman._

_Why do I even care? I don't even _like _him. _

"Well, at least it's nearly over," Bebe said. Wendy nodded. "Are you even listening to me, Wends?"

"Sure."

"Well," Bebe said, with a sigh, "if you feel like telling me what's up, I'm here for you."

"Nothing's wrong! What makes you think that?"

"Um, the fact that you look like someone ran your puppy over?" Bebe flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Does this have anything to do with Cartman?"

"What?"

"OK, I guess that's a yes. I wasn't gonna mention it, but you guys were hanging out all night at my party. You seemed pretty drunk, so I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. But... did something happen?"

"No! No. Nothing happened. I don't even remember it," Wendy said.

"You're not a very good liar."

"Bebe, just do me a favor and shut up."

Surprisingly, she did.

* * *

Katie called Kyle first thing on Tuesday. Monday, she felt, was too soon, given the mutual awkwardness, but she had to tell him about the plan.

"Hello?" Kyle said.

"Hi. It's Katie."

"Yeah."

"So, um. I have a plan?"

"Is this anything like the cable plan? Or the bra plan?"

"No. It's even better."

"Can't be too hard."

"Asshole."

"Well, astonish me."

When Katie was finished describing the plan, Kyle considered it.

"You know, that's actually pretty good."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kyle said. "Assuming, of course, we can get Wendy on our side."

"Please. She'd be more than willing to get back at Cartman. I have insider information."

"How?"

"She's like Kenny's best friend now. Or something." Katie bit her lip. "Well, I'll see you around."

"Yeah. Bye." And Kyle hung up.

Katie sighed. She still felt like crap. Stupid Kyle, for getting her mixed up in this... thing.

* * *

Rehearsing with Cartman, Kenny decided, was not fun.

"All I'm saying is, black people should be able to play better than that."

"Fuck you! It has nothing to do with my people, and I'd like to see you try!"

While Token was trying to defend himself against Cartman's bigotry, Tweek was in the corner, murmering something about gnomes. And Kenny was busy re-stringing his guitar, having snapped two out of frustration. Nope, he wasn't sublimating at _all_.

Kenny simply couldn't see why a girl as great as Wendy would go for someone like... well, Cartman. Kenny realized that he wasn't exactly a catch, but he liked to think of himself as a basically decent person, which gave him one thing over Cartman. Was it really true that girls went for jerks? If so, Cartman should have a regular harem.

"Let's just call it a day," Kenny said, after Token threatened to hit Cartman with an amplifier. The others agreed.

* * *

Tuesday. Only four more days to go until the pageant. Or five. Whatever. Wendy wasn't really keeping count.

She had arrived early, and was putting on make-up in her dressing room when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Wendy said. The door swung open, and Bebe stepped in.

"Hey. I was just wondering if you were OK."

"Yeah," she replied, with a wan smile. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry about bugging you earlier. About Cartman. I was just trying to help."

"It's OK, Bebe." Wendy looked down at her lap. "Cartman spiked my drink."

"Oh my God."

"But that's not even the worst part. I liked him. Honest to God. I mean..."

Bebe came over and hugged Wendy. "I'll go kick his ass for you."

Wendy laughed. "I highly doubt you could kick anything's ass."

"Please. Two words: stiletto heels." Bebe smiled. "You can't let that asshole get you down. What you have to do is go out there, be dazzling, and stomp him to the curb."

"In a metaphorical sense."

"Eh, whatever. Smile for me."

Wendy smiled.

"That is not a smile," said Bebe. "That is a grimace. Smile."

Wendy tried again.

"It'll do. Now, get ready. I hear they don't make the final decision for the finalists until Friday, so you're going to have to be on the top of your game today."

"I will. Thanks, Bebe."

"No problem. I've gotta go get ready myself. Take care!"

* * *

Kenny was watching _Red Racer_, for nostalgia more than anything else, on Wednesday afternoon when the phone rang. He turned off the TV and picked up the phone.

"Hey."

"Hiya." It was Butters.

"Hey," Kenny said again. "What's up?"

"N-nothin' much. Tryin' not to get grounded before the... big game."

"Big game?" And then Kenny remembered his cover story. "Oh. Your parents nearby?"

"No, but they might run in at any second."

"You know, you're seventeen. You don't have to be afraid of them."

"I know, but still. Anyway, what's up with you?"

"Um. You can't tell anyone this, but Wendy came over to my house on Sunday."

"Why?"

"She left Bebe's party with Cartman. And they..."

"Made babies?"

"Yes. And don't call it that."

"H-hell. I mean, hamburgers."

Kenny stared at the phone, and then shrugged. Hearing a minor curse word from Butters wasn't anywhere near as shocking as it would've been a month ago.

"Why'd she tell you that?"

"Apparently she was drugged. And she seemed really torn up about it. He was a complete asshole to her."

"Yeah. C-cartman's a jerk."

"How long did it take for you to figure that out?" Kenny sighed. "And that's not all. I sort of... like her."

"Like-like?"

"Of course it's like-like!" And it was then that Katie decided to emerge from her room.

"Who're you talking to? A sixth-grade girl?" Katie asked.

"It's Margie," Kenny said, covering up the mouthpiece. "Margie, I gotta go. Bye." And Kenny hung up. Butters would understand.

"So, who do you like-like? Not Margie?"

"I already told you that I don't like-like... I mean, that I'm not interested in Margie. It's someone else, not that it matters."

"Who?" Katie asked. "Someone I know?"

"Like I'd tell you."

"Is it that brunette chick that was over here this weekend? Wendy?" Katie asked. Kenny shrugged. "Ha! That means yes!"

"You can be a real pain sometimes."

"That's what little sisters are for." Katie sat down next to Kenny. "No, seriously. She's hot. Although I think she might have issues."

"Gee, you think?" Kenny said. "I'll talk to her about it. When she's feeling better."

"Sure." Katie got up. "I'm going for a walk. Don't die while I'm gone."

"Ha ha. Come back before dinner if you're not eating out."

"Bye," she said, as she walked out the door.

* * *

"Ky-ole! Your friend Katie's here!"

Kyle put down the magazine and went downstairs. _Why would Katie be here? She's already told me about the plan._

Katie stood in the living room.

"Hey," she said. "I should've called first, but I need some help with... fractions."

"Fr... oh, yeah. Um." Kyle glanced at his mother. "Should we go upstairs?"

"If you're here to study fractions," Mrs. Broflovski said, "why didn't you bring your math book?"

Kyle and Katie shared a worried glance.

"Darn," Katie said. "I knew I'd forgotten something." She smiled at Mrs. Broflovski. "Don't you hate when you forget stuff like that?"

"Are you saying I'm old?"

"It's fine," Kyle said. "I have some old math books upstairs. I'm sure we'll find what you need to cover."

"Thanks. Well, it was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Broflovski."

"Humph."

Kyle and Katie ran upstairs. Kyle closed the door behind him.

"Somehow, I get the feeling that your mother doesn't approve of me."

"It's nothing personal. She just doesn't want to accept that I'm not with Wendy anymore."

"And this has nothing to do with me?"

"Well, she likes your mom fine, and she's always been OK with me hanging out with Kenny. Anyway, what're you here to talk about?"

"I just... well, I wanted to talk about Sunday. I'm sorry that it turned into a fight."

"It's fine," Kyle said.

"I do like you. We can be friends, right?"

"Yeah." The two teens looked down at the floor to avoid meeting the other's gaze.

"Well, I guess I'd better get home, before your mother decides to check up on us."

"I'm sorry about her."

"Not your fault," Katie said. "God knows my parents have issues."

Kyle laughed. "Well, bye."

"Bye." Katie gave him a hug, and they held on for just a moment too long before she left.

* * *

"Now," said Jesus, on Friday after rehearsal. "Everyone needs to go home and get a good night's sleep. Please turn up at three in the afternoon tomorrow. We need to be ready by five. Good luck!"

The remaining contestants walked off the stage. Wendy and Butters headed towards their room.

Butters wondered if he should mention what Kenny had told him. Not the part about Kenny liking her, but the part about Cartman.

Before Butters could say anything, Cartman walked up to them.

"Hey, ho," Cartman said. Wendy ignored him. "Why'd you..."

"Cartman, just shut up and leave me alone!" And Wendy stormed off.

"God, someone has sand in their vagina," Cartman said.

Wendy was heading to the dressing room when she heard her name. She turned around to see Kenny's little sister standing in an empty room.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked. Wendy looked around. "Yes, I mean you."

"All right," Wendy said, entering the room. Katie then closed the door.

"I have a... proposition for you."

"What? Did Kenny put you up to this?"

"No. This is about Kyle. You know how much he hates Cartman."

"It's hard to forget."

"Well, he doesn't want him to win the pageant. So he hired me to help him sabotage Cartman."

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know that Kyle was so devious."

"Yeah. You'd think that a goody-goody like that wouldn't stoop to such levels. Anyway, I have pretty much the perfect plan to stop Cartman, but I'm asking for your help."

"What's the plan?"

When Katie had finished explaining, Wendy considered it.

"What's in it for me?"

"Duh. Revenge. Cartman broke your heart."

"What? Did Kenny tell you about that?"

"Um, no. You were talking pretty loud, and our walls aren't exactly soundproof."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No problem. You kind of get used to it. Anyway, you would have a part in his downfall. Can you imagine how much he would hate for 10,000 to slip through his fingers?"

Wendy considered it. It would be pretty sweet to rob Cartman of his dream. And wasn't that the whole point of joining this stupid pageant anyway?

She liked to think of herself as a moral person, one murder aside. But morals could only get you so far.

"I'll help you."

"Great!" Katie handed Wendy a pair of handcuffs and a key. "You're going to need these."

"Where'd you get them?"

Katie shrugged. "You probably don't want to know. So, tomorrow, before the pageant begins. Got it?"

"Got it," Wendy said.

"Thanks, by the way," Katie said, as she prepared to leave. Wendy grinned.

"No. Thank _you_."


End file.
